


I Know Nothing Stays the Same

by aewriting



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Angst, Boys On The Run - Freeform, Eventual Happy Ending, Gambling, Hurt/Comfort, Irresponsible Sex, Lies, M/M, Marijuana, Motel living, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-shed, Relationship Trouble, Sexual Coercion, Therapy, brief descriptions of violence, descriptions of injuries, some smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2020-07-27 09:04:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 34,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20043424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aewriting/pseuds/aewriting
Summary: "Alex doesn’t believe in miracles until one happens to him.His father has a hammer in one hand and Alex’s throat in the other. As Alex’s consciousness fades, he’s dimly aware of movement.  His father’s about to swing the hammer, and this is how Alex will die."When an unexplainable force puts a stop to Jesse's attack in the shed, Alex and Michael are forced to go on the run.  Leaving Roswell is an easy decision, but navigating the consequences of that choice months and even years later proves to be much more complicated.





	1. I know nothing stays the same

**Author's Note:**

> This story is AU, and consists of three parts: Past, Present, and Future.

**PAST**

Alex doesn’t believe in miracles until one happens to him.

His father has a hammer in one hand and Alex’s throat in the other. As Alex’s consciousness fades, he’s dimly aware of movement. His father’s about to swing the hammer, and this is how Alex will die. He can’t even cower, can’t even breathe, let alone beg. He wishes, desperately, that Michael wasn’t seeing this, then considers that Jesse very well might kill Michael, too.

What happens next is something that Alex will obsessively go over hundreds, if not thousands of times:

Michael shouts.

Jesse pauses.

An invisible presence pulls Jesse off of Alex and flings him into the wall of the toolshed with startling force, knocking him unconscious.

Alex drops to the ground immediately, landing on his hands and knees. He gasps for breath and hears the wrecked sounds his body makes as he attempts to fill his lungs with air. “What happened?” he tries to ask, but the words won’t come out.

Michael looks so scared, and all Alex wants to do is reassure him, but now isn’t the time. “We have to leave,” Alex tries to say. “We have to go.” The words aren’t forming, and it hurts to try to talk. He has to make Michael understand. Alex gestures wildly to the toolshed door. That seems to do it. Michael crosses to Alex and helps haul him up and out of the toolshed. Michael steers them toward his truck, but Alex holds up a finger, then points to the house. Michael looks confused, and Alex repeats the gestures.

He’s been planning his escape for years. After a scared glance at the toolshed, Alex crosses to the house as fast as he can. Deep in his closet is his duffel bag, packed and ready to go with clothes, cash, and MREs. He exits the house quickly and enters the passenger side door of Michael’s truck. Michael, bless him, has already started the truck and is just waiting for Alex.

Alex points straight ahead and mouths, “Go.”

***

They don’t stop until they’re almost out of gas three hours later in Texas. Michael pulls into a dusty Valero station and turns to Alex. He’s still not wearing a shirt. Alex begins to peel off his own, but Michael seems to realize what he’s doing and stops him. “I’ve got clothes in the back,” he says, and of course he does – this is where he lives, Alex remembers. “What I don’t have,” Michael begins, embarrassed, “is money.” He empties his jean pockets right in front of him. “$9, and maybe $15 more in a bag in the back.” Michael’s eyes widen when Alex unzips the duffel a few inches, allowing him a peek at the neat stack of bills Alex keeps secured with a rubber band. Michael makes a low whistling sound, and Alex gives a weak little smile. Alex peels off two twenties, and Michael gets out of the truck to put on a shirt and fill the tank with gasoline. Alex stays low in the passenger seat, not wanting anyone to see the angry bruises that are already forming on his neck.

***

They’re on a long stretch of highway in the middle of Nowhere, Texas when Michael abruptly pulls the truck over. Alex startles awake. “I’m exhausted,” Michael states matter-of-factly, “and so are you.” Alex opens his mouth to protest. Nothing comes out. Michael turns off the truck and inclines his head toward the truck bed. “Come on, let’s go.” Alex follows Michael’s lead, exiting the truck and heading toward the back. Michael pulls some random articles of clothing out of a bag and spreads them on the metal truck bed, then fully unzips his sleeping bag and places it blanket-like over the clothes. “It’s, it’s not perfect,” he says sheepishly, “but it’s something. Looks like clear weather tonight, and we’ll keep each other warm.” The way he says it is bland, reasonable, but there’s a spark of hope in his eyes, and Alex could nearly cry that Michael can still see him like this and _want. _Alex smiles a little and nods, climbing up into the truck and positioning himself on the old clothes. Michael grins and does the same, then burrows in next to Alex and pulls the sleeping bag over both of them. “This okay?” he asks, getting even closer to Alex and draping an arm over him. Alex nods.

***

It’s past sunrise when Alex awakens. He’s cold, but not overly so, thanks to Michael, who is so damn warm and wrapping Alex in a sleepy embrace. Alex allows himself to press even closer to Michael. His eyes fly open when he feels Michael, half-hard, against his lower back. A rush of affection is quickly chased by anxiety. As much as Alex wants this, wants Michael, he knows there are certain things that Michael might want that he definitely can’t do at the moment. Alex tries to inconspicuously shimmy away, but inadvertently wakes up Michael in the process. “Where you going?” he asks sleepily, skimming his hand along Alex’s body. Alex automatically responds, but his throat isn’t having it yet. That wakes Michael up, and he gently guides Alex to roll over and look at him. Only Alex isn’t looking at Michael’s eyes, he’s looking at his crotch, a concerned expression on his face. Michael gives him a little half-smile. “You know how it is,” he says with a shrug. Alex looks at him nervously, wishes his voice could work so he could ask Michael what he wants. He settles for pointing to himself, then Michael’s crotch, then pantomiming a handjob in the air between them.

Michael’s eyes widen. He looks at Alex uncertainly. “Do – do you _want _that right now?”

Alex points at Michael, mouths, “Do _you_?”

Michael’s eyes narrow, and he pulls back from Alex a bit. He seems to consider his words carefully, which isn’t like Michael. “I want you, Alex. I do. But you’re hurt.” Michael worries his lip with his teeth, looks down. “You sounded awful last night, like you could hardly breathe, and that was just sleeping. I don’t think we should really do anything till you get checked out.” Michael suddenly touches his chin – lightly, but it’s enough to really get Alex’s attention. “And you don’t owe me anything. Not a damn thing. When we do finally… it’ll be because we both want to, okay?”

Alex feels a hot rush come over him, the precursor to tears that he’s gotten so good at holding back. He’s not used to being seen like this. Michael just read him like a fucking book, and it’s both comforting and terrifying. He blinks quickly and tries to a make a little sound of agreement.

Michael seems to accept it. “Good,” he says, and he reaches out to pull Alex into his arms.

***

Alex begins panicking when he realizes they are driving on a main highway. He’s pulling at Michael’s sleeve and pointing wildly out the window at the well-paved, multi-lane road in front of them.

“_Christ, _Alex! Do you wanna wreck?”

Alex is shaking his head vehemently.

“I _know_ what we said, but…” Michael looks at him, and there’s a ferocity in his eyes that causes Alex to still, actually shrink back. Michael sees it, and he backs off, shoulders slumping. “You can’t talk. You can’t breathe. You can barely eat or drink. Your throat is fucked, man.” He’s gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles are white. “You need to see a doctor.”

Alex laughs, or he tries to. There’s just a garbled little wheeze that escapes him. He gestures to his pockets, then brings his hands up empty. No money.

This isn’t the first time Michael’s brought up the idea of getting Alex medical attention. A few gas stations back, Michael actually went into the attached convenience store and came out holding a 99 cent bag of BBQ sunflower seeds. _You risked security cameras for that???_ Alex wanted to yell. He understood, though, when Michael emptied his pockets and out tumbled a pack of post-it notes and a pen. At the time, Alex had looked at him gratefully. In the miles since, however, he wondered if Michael regretted swiping the items. With Alex able to communicate better, some significant differences of opinion had been revealed:

One: Alex wanted a plan. Michael wanted to fly by the seat of their pants.

_No major roads_. _My dad will find us. Plan? _

“Our plan,” Michael had replied, “is no plan. He can’t find us if he can’t predict us, right? He probably thinks we’re in California already.”

Two: Michael wanted Alex to go to the hospital. Alex wanted to avoid getting checked.

_He knows he hurt me. He’ll be monitoring hospital records. _

And, many times over, _No $. _

“I will find a fucking way to get you seen.”

Three: Alex wanted to talk about _what the fuck _happened in the shed. Michael… Michael wouldn’t even engage. 

_WTF happened with my dad?_

_My dad flew through the air._

_What was that in the shed?_

_Ghost?_

_Earthquake?_

_God?_

Alex shakes his head a bit and refocuses on Michael, here in the car, driving down… I-75, apparently, according to the sign they just passed. Michael is tense, but when he finally speaks, his voice is quiet.

“I’m 18.”

Alex looks at him, surprised. _When? _he mouths.

Michael shrugs. “Who the fuck knows? But the date the grand state of New Mexico found me wandering the desert was a few weeks back, so that makes me legal now.” He bobs his head, looking at something in the distance.

Alex follows his sightline. Ahead of them on the side of the highway is a huge complex, rising out of the middle of nowhere. Choctaw Casino and Resort, Alex reads.

Michael takes the exit and scans the parking area, finally settling for a spot on the periphery of a large side lot. “You gotta stay here,” he says. “You’re underage, your neck’s a mess, and we don’t need extra attention.” Alex just stares at him. “Don’t look at me like that,” Michael says softly. “Just trust me. I won’t lose all our money, I promise. In fact, I’ll just take $20.” He musters up a little smile. “I’m feeling lucky.” Alex relents and gives him a small smile in return. They _do _need the money.

It’s hours later when Michael finally strides, quickly, toward the car, a new black cowboy hat pulled low over his eyes. _Smart, _Alex thinks. It’s a way to blend in and shield his face from security cameras. Michael catches Alex’s eyes through the windshield and gives him a determined grin. Michael is opening the door and starting the truck almost immediately, nearly gunning it out of the parking lot as he dumps a heavy plastic bag in Alex’s lap.

It’s stuffed with cash.

Alex is gaping.

“Told you I felt lucky.”

***

It’s early afternoon, and Michael drives them straight to the nearest urgent care clinic. Alex signs in with a fake name and nervously waits to be called back. Even though it’s hot as hell outside, he’s got on a hoodie, and he has it pulled all the way up over his head, hoping to conceal his neck as long as possible. It seems to be working. No one pays him and Michael any mind until they are firmly settled back in an exam room. The doctor enters, and she’s young. Alex doesn’t miss the once-over Michael gives her. Alex watches as Michael’s posture softens into something loose, open, and flirtatious.

“Hey doc.”

“Good afternoon,” said the doctor. “This is…?”

“Adam,” Michael answers for him.

The doctor looks at Alex, then at her computer monitor. “Adam, okay. Can you talk, Adam?” Alex shakes his head no and gestures to Michael. “You want your friend here to tell me a little bit about what brings you in today?” Alex nods, and Michael takes over.

“Adam’s a hell of a quarterback,” Michael says proudly, believably. Alex nearly snorts. “Coach was having the team do two-a-days, and Jones got a little too aggressive with his tackles, caught him right in the throat.”

“When was this?” asked the doctor.

“A few days ago,” Michael replied. “We’re on a road trip,” he explains. “I just graduated, and Adam’s keeping me company on my way to the East Coast for college. We didn’t realize how bad it was at first, but he, he still can’t talk, and he’s having trouble breathing and eating and drinking.”

“Well, that’s not good,” says the doctor. She looks at Alex. “I’ll need you to put your hood down so I can see – yikes.” Her eyes fly open as Alex lowers the hood, revealing the dark, finger shaped bruises. Her eyes narrow as she looks at Michael. “Would you mind stepping out for a moment?” Alex nods at him and Michael leaves, looking nervous.

“This looks like someone tried to strangle you.”

Alex doesn’t answer.

“Was it him?” The doctor gestures toward the door, and Alex shakes his head almost violently. “Okay, okay, calm down. How old are you, kid?”

_Eighteen, _Alex mouths, lying.

“Adam, if that’s really your name, did someone do this to you on purpose?” She slides a piece of paper and a pen toward him.

_Football injury, _Alex writes.

_Bullshit, _the doctor writes.

_I’m safe now_.

The doctor stares at him for a long moment, then begins her exam. She’s professional, and she lets Alex know exactly what to do and gives him ample warning before she touches him, which Alex appreciates. Her face looks grim as she finishes up. “You want your friend to come back in?” she asks, and Alex nods affirmatively. The doctor opens the door to the exam room and Michael practically spills inside.

“Well,” says the doctor, clearing her throat. “Your teammate’s a real asshole. Your coach must be a real asshole, too, because I haven’t heard of two-a-days typically starting up for at least a few more months.” Michael looks down at the floor. She glares at both of them. “I want to see a real ID from one of you before I leave this room, or I am calling social services.”

“Please don’t –“ Michael starts, but Alex has already produced his wallet from his pocket and is handing over his ID to the doctor.

“Alex Manes, from Roswell, New Mexico. Seventeen years old,” the doctor reads. “You’re a long way from home, Alex. Who did this to you?”

Michael and Alex exchange a look, and Alex nods. “His dad,” Michael says simply.

“Dad still in New Mexico?”

“We hope,” answers Michael.

The doctor seems to consider this. “I could lose my license,” she mutters, “but I’m not going to report this right away. I just feel like that could cause more trouble for you.” She looks at Alex with a very serious expression. “You need to go to the ER, though. There’s one right here in Durant. I think you have a laryngeal fracture, but to confirm they’ll need to do a CT scan. You _have _to get this checked out, or you risk permanent damage to your airway and your voice. I’m going to call the ER now, and tell them to expect you within the hour. You don’t do this, and I _will _contact social services – do you understand?”

Michael and Alex are both nodding.

“Okay. Get checked out and make your way to the ER.” She pauses and looks at them sympathetically. “Good luck.”

***

They’re in Durant for almost 3 months. 

The early hospital days are a haze to Alex. He’d needed a fucking tube down his throat to keep the airway open, then surgery to repair his larynx. Michael had been with him the whole time, answering questions, deflecting suspicions, and making sure that Alex never had to wake up alone and scared in a strange hospital.

And Alex _was _scared. Terrified even. Of losing his voice permanently, sure, but primarily of his father finding out where he and Michael were.

And a part of Alex, the part that sounded remarkably like Jesse in the throes of violence, knew that this injury was _exactly _what Alex deserved, like something out of an old, dark fable…

You want to make music? Want to play guitar and sing? Try doing it with a crushed airway, you pussy.

You want to get on your knees for a guy under my roof? Take a dick down your throat? Good luck with that now, you perverted piece of shit.

You think you’re so fucking cute, with your attitude and your smart mouth. Well, I finally found a way to shut you up…

Upon Alex’s hospital discharge, Michael drives straight to a cheap motel on the outskirts of Durant and pays for a month’s stay out of that crazy plastic bag of cash that he won. Alex wants to talk to Michael – to thank him for taking care of him, to plan out their next steps, and to figure out how the hell they are going to pay for a fucking CT scan, surgery, and ICU stay. But Alex _can’t _talk, and Michael is all too happy to avoid a litany of unpleasant conversations.

Alex turns 18 in Durant.

They drive past the world’s largest peanut in Durant.

They have their first fight in Durant.

Alex has been holed up in the shitty motel room for weeks. It’s summer in Oklahoma, and it’s hot as fuck, even at night. He’s lying on top of the sticky sheets, watching a Friday Night Lights rerun.

Alex had just attended a follow-up appointment at an outpatient clinic. He’d undergone a video stroboscopy, which had revealed only minor damage. He still wasn’t supposed to talk or exert himself, so he kept to the motel room. Within hours of the appointment, Michael had announced that he was going to find work, and in the 3 days since, he’d been coming home exhausted, cash jammed in his pockets. Alex kept trying to ask him about it, but it was hard to have a real conversation when one side was confined to a legal pad. Michael explained that he’d found a nearby truck stop, where he was working odd jobs.

Earlier today, Michael said he’d be home around 6. It’s almost 10.

Alex hears a jiggling at the door and instinctively reaches for the can of pepper spray he keeps next to the bed. Michael had informed the motel staff that their room was not to be entered without permission, for any reason. Alex is still convinced that his father is going to show up unannounced, despite the fact that they’ve used fake names and paid for everything in cash.

The door opens, and with the first glimpse of Michael’s calloused hands and tan arms, Alex allows himself to relax minutely. The tension returns, however, when he takes in Michael’s appearance and a horrible thought enters his mind.

“Where have you been?” he asks weakly. Michael is dripping wet, but it’s not raining.

He’s just showered, and it wasn’t here.

Michael holds up a hand. “Hey, no talking, remember?” He smiles at Alex fondly. “That sounded better, though. I’m really glad you’re getting your voice back.” His eyes light up when he sees the television. “Friday Night Lights, nice!” He rounds on Alex and gives a wolfish grin. “Tim Riggins, amiright?”

For a moment, Alex forgets that Michael’s four hours late and smells like someone else’s soap. He smiles and gives a little shrug.

Michael is smiling, big and bright. “Hell yeah, you would. So would I. Ha, I bet even Kyle Valenti would.”

The name of Alex’s best friend-turned-bully on Michael’s lips is like a bucket of cold water down his back. Earlier good humor gone, he glares at Michael and picks up his pad and paper.

_Where WERE you?_

Michael seems confused. “I was working, at the truck stop.”

_Whose shower did you use?_

Michael’s shoulders slump and he gives a little shake of his head. “So _that’s_ what this is about.”

Alex stares at him expectantly.

With an exaggerated sigh, Michael flops down on the bed next to Alex. “A truck broke down. I got paid extra to stay and help fix it. I had grease all over me, and it’s a truck stop, so Javier let me get cleaned up there for free after the job was done.”

It seems plausible, but Alex has questions. _Where’d you learn to fix a truck?_

Michael reads the words quickly, shrugs. “I’m self-taught, mostly. I’ve always been good with my hands.” He lays down on the bed and stares at the ceiling. “Back junior year, I started hanging around Sanders’ Auto. He let me watch him and tinker around with some of the old beaters. I liked it. That’s how I got my truck.”

Alex hadn’t known this, any of it. He’s impressed. Back in school, he was certainly aware that Michael was brilliant, and easy on the eyes. As they began spending more time together, he’d learned just how guarded Michael could be, but also how caring. And yet…

_What do you do at the truck stop?_

Michael frowns a bit. “I just told you, I help fix cars and trucks. Under the table, of course. And yesterday I picked up some extra cash washing dishes at the attached diner.”

_It’s not enough, _Alex writes, _for the medical bills. _Michael swallows, hard. _What else have you been doing at the truck stop?_

Michael’s brow furrows. He rolls on his side and props his head up to stare at Alex. “What are you asking me?”

Alex takes the edge of Michael’s damp t-shirt in one hand, then jams a finger on words he previously wrote. _What. Else. _

Michael’s eyes narrow. “Are… are you asking me if I’m, like, sucking off truckers?”

Alex nods.

“_Jesus, _Alex!” Michael explodes. “No, okay? I’m not out giving blowjobs for cash. Shit. What would make you even _think _that?”

Alex is quiet, studying Michael’s face before finally picking up the legal pad.

_When things were bad with my dad, I used to think about what I’d be willing to do to get away from him. _He pauses, sees that he has Michael’s attention. _Run away, obviously. _Alex gestures to their surroundings. _Military. Peace Corps. Hitchhike. _

Alex’s face tightens.

_I’d do ANYTHING. _He looks at Michael meaningfully. _That’s what I realized. Anything would be better than staying with him._

Michael is staring at him. His eyes are wide, and he brings shaky hands to Alex’s shoulders. “Dammit, Alex,” he whispers, sliding his hands up and down Alex’s arms. “If you ever feel desperate like that, please tell me, okay. We’ll figure it out together. But, please promise me you won’t do something like that,” his face scrunches up, “even if I was the one who was laid up, and we needed money. It’s just… it wouldn’t be worth it.”

Alex nods at him solemnly, then writes one final line on the pad.

_The only thing I couldn’t do was kill him. _

***

The next night, Michael pushes the two twin beds together.

“I know you’re not allowed to talk yet, or, um, exercise, but I figured it was safe to share a bed, right? If, if it’s okay with you, of course.”

Alex walks straight toward him and wraps him in a strong embrace. He can feel the tension leaving Michael’s body as he sinks into the contact. Michael’s hands slowly, tentatively explore his back, his arms, before finally settling gently on his shoulders, his thumbs soft on Alex’s neck. Alex sighs and leans in, pressing a kiss against Michael’s lips. Michael makes a contented little sound and they stay just like that for a long moment. Finally, Alex slides his hand under Michael’s thin shirt, absorbing the warmth of his skin and marveling that he’s here, now, experiencing this. “Let’s go to bed,” Michael whispers.

***

Their stay in Durant comes to an abrupt end.

Michael had taken the day off work to drive Alex to another outpatient follow-up appointment. The feedback had been good – Alex would recover most of his vocal function, his airway was looking good, and he was allowed to speak freely again – normal conversation, no shouting or screaming if he could help it. He sent Michael out of the exam room early to go plead with the billing department, and it was then that he got to have a very specific conversation with the doctor.

“Am I cleared for exercise?”

The doctor considers the question. “Yes, you can do mild exercises now. I’d wait at least a year to do anything really intense, though – no marathons or triathlons or anything.”

“How about, um, sex?”

The doctor’s eyebrow quirks up a bit. “Sure, you’re cleared for intercourse at this point.”

Alex swallows, just wants to be sure. “Um, good. Is it okay to have, like, any kind of sex?” The doctor is just staring at him, so Alex elaborates. “I’m gay.”

The doctor gives a little nod of understanding. “Ah, okay. Short answer is, yes, you’re cleared. Honestly, though, I would hold off on giving oral sex for another month at least, and nothing too aggressive once you do decide to do it. Obviously, if there’s pain or shortness of breath with _any _activity, sexual or otherwise, stop right away and come see us, okay?”

“Okay,” Alex says, relieved that he no longer has to write down everything he wants to say.

Michael is restlessly pacing in the waiting area, looking displeased. “What’s wrong?” Alex asks, touching his arm.

“Talk in the car?” Michael says tightly.

“Sure,” says Alex.

Michael’s expression softens a bit. “So good to hear your voice,” he says warmly, kissing the side of Alex’s head as they walk to the parking area together.

Usually Alex would shy away from such a public display of affection, especially in the middle of Oklahoma, but he was still so damn relieved after his chat with the doctor that he allowed it without hesitation. He settles into the passenger seat in Michael’s truck and waits for Michael to speak.

“We need more money,” Michael says tightly. “I, I need to go to the casino again and win some more.”

Alex raises an eyebrow. Usually Michael doesn’t tell him he’s going to the casino, he just heads out and, inevitably, comes back flush with cash. Michael’s been handling all the bills. Alex doesn’t even know how much they owe to the hospital. “Why now? What happened?”

“We’re so close to paying everything off.”

“Wait, what? Like, paying off the medical bills?” It has to be tens of thousands of dollars at the VERY least.

“Yeah,” Michael says. “I just want it wrapped up. The longer it stretches out, the better the chances of your dad finding us.”

Alex shakes his head. “But… but there’s no way we’ve paid most of it off. Right?”

Michael’s just staring straight ahead, hands gripping the wheel. “I just need one or two more good hauls from the casino. I can do it, I know…”

Alex actually feels a little scared. “Michael, it’s gambling. You, you can’t rely on it.” Alex scrutinizes him. “Are you counting cards or something?” Michael snorts a little. “No, for real! I’ve heard of people doing that. Didn’t that movie come out earlier this year? About the college kids who scammed casinos? Is that what you’re doing? God knows you’re smart enough for it.” 

“I’m not counting cards,” Michael mutters. “I play craps. Total game of chance. And sometimes I just… I dunno, I feel lucky. And it’s been working.”

It’s suspicious, but if what Michael’s saying is true, it really is just chance, and Michael (in this one, super-specific area of his life), is _very _lucky. They arrive at the motel, and Michael kisses Alex again.

“I’ll be back later tonight, and you can tell me everything the doctor said.”

“Mmm, sounds good,” Alex replies. He enters the motel and watches through the curtains as Michael’s truck pulls away. Alex smiles to himself. He has no idea that Alex is allowed to have sex again, and it’s going to be a hell of a surprise tonight when he gets back. For three months, Alex has been confined to either the motel, the truck, or the hospital, and he’s itching to be outside. He grabs one of Michael’s baseball caps and, ugh, what an awful fashion statement, but it’ll keep him disguised. There’s a convenience store less than a mile down the road, and Alex is planning to get prepared for tonight.

He’s never been in a relationship before. Before Michael, the only sexual experience he had consisted of exchanging very inept, very covert handjobs with the second-chair cellist at the New Mexico All-State High School Music Festival back in January. Everything had happened so fast with Michael that there wasn’t even time to anticipate what they were doing.

That wasn’t the case now.

As he walks, Alex lets himself imagine what it will be like to have sex with Michael tonight. He wants Michael to fuck him again, like they did in the shed, only take their time. Maybe Michael’d go down on him in the shower, after? They could watch a movie, split a pizza. Alex wishes, not for the first time, that he’d let Rosa make him that fake ID so he could pick up a little whiskey or beer for the two of them. He arrives at the convenience store, and tries to be nonchalant as he buys condoms, lube, assorted snacks and, what the hell, a little bottle of sparkling grape juice. Too cheesy? Alex doesn’t know, but he doesn’t think Michael will make fun of him either way. Michael, against all logic, seems to really like Alex, and Alex can’t quite figure out why. It’s one of many things he wants to know more about when it comes to Michael Guerin.

Alex is almost back at the motel when he gets the call. There’s only one person in the world that has the number to this phone. Alex answers after only half a ring. “Hello?”

“Alex, Alex, you need to pack everything up, we have to GO!” Michael is shouting into the phone, his breath coming in pants.

“Whoa, what? Go as in leave the motel?”

“YES! I’m on my way now, be there in ten minutes, be ready, okay?”

“Are you hurt?”

A pause. “I’ll be fine.”

“You ARE hurt! Shit, is it my dad?”

“No, no, not your dad, just – just be ready to go!” 

Michael ends the call and Alex breaks out into a light jog the rest of the way back to the motel. It’s humbling – his body feels wasted after three months of recovery, and he’s breathing hard, too hard, by the time he’s back at the motel. He tosses everything they own into bags – Michael’s cheap duffel, Alex’s more expensive, military-grade one, and some trash bags.

Alex isn’t prepared for the sight of Michael, bursting in the door without even knocking. “Move, move move!” he yells, hustling Alex out the door.

“Your, your face!” Alex manages, reaching for Michael.

“Later, dammit!” Michael yells, harsher than he’s ever been with Alex. Alex swears he feels a hand on his back, pushing him out the door, but Michael is halfway across the room. Alex runs over to the truck and chucks the bags right in the back. Within seconds, Michael is in the truck too. There are loose bills stuffed in his pockets – he must have been hiding more cash somewhere in the room.

Michael doesn’t even wait for Alex to buckle up before he peels out of the lot. Michael’s eyes are frantically searching the rear and sideview mirrors. He takes the nearest exit to the main highway, and it’s another ten minutes before he finally exhales, ever so deeply, and addresses Alex.

“Well, I think it’s time we left Oklahoma.”

***

They’re somewhere deep in the Ouachita National Forest when Michael pulls over the truck for the night.

“You finally gonna let me look at you?” Alex asks, tone tense.

Michael sighs. “Yeah, you can look.”

Alex turns on the old dome light to get a look. Fingertips feel Michael’s black eyes, swollen nose, cut lip. The blood is crusty on his upper lip and chin, with rough stubble poking through. Michael’s beard has started to come in thicker, Alex thinks absentmindedly.

“Nothing’s broken, and I have all my teeth.”

Alex just nods. Those are the first things he would check too, _has _checked, after getting his face beat in. It didn’t happen often, but it had happened enough. From Michael’s tone, it had happened enough to him, too. Alex shrugs out of his t-shirt.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Michael asks, confused.

Alex stretches to grab a water bottle and douses his shirt with it. “Cleaning you up. Can’t have you out scaring people.”

With that, Michael finally, finally relaxes against the seat and lets out a small chuckle, looking at the wooded expanse of nothingness in front of them. “Nah, wouldn’t want that,” he says softly, letting Alex begin the methodical task of clearing the blood off his busted face.

Alex takes the job seriously. An odd thought comes to him – he feels like one of those art restorers, the ones they read about in school, that clean old paintings and statues by removing layers of grime and dirt to reveal the original beauty underneath. That’s how it feels right now, with Michael. Even with his discolored skin, he’s exquisite, and Alex feels almost reverent in his task, wishing this had never happened, but grateful that he’s the one doing this job.

Michael’s eyes are wide, taking in the scene, watching as Alex so carefully wipes away blood and sweat. He seems taken aback, and Alex wonders if anyone other than Michael himself has ever patched up his wounds before. Alex doubts it.

Alex is cleaning Michael’s split lip when Michael’s tongue suddenly darts out, licking his own wound and Alex’s fingers along with it. Alex stills as Michael lightly sucks the fingers into his mouth, holding them gently in place with his teeth for just a moment before tipping up his face to let them trail to his chin. “Please, Alex,” he says softly. “Can we…?”

Alex cradles Michael’s injured face in his hands and kisses him, sweet and strong. Michael reacts immediately, bringing his hands to the bare skin of Alex’s sides, back, shoulders. Michael suddenly pulls back. “Shit, what about your throat? What did the doctors say?”

Alex eyes are glittering black. “I’m cleared. Everything but oral.”

“Truck bed, now,” Michael pants, and they go.

***

After the night in the forest, it’s like a dam has broken. Each day they drive, and each night, well, they fuck. 

Michael sucks Alex off against a tree.

Alex straddles Michael in the driver’s seat of the truck and rides him to climax.

They give each other handjobs while waiting in traffic.

Alex fucks Michael face to face in the bed of the truck.

Michael eats Alex out in a cheap motel room before fucking him senseless into the thin mattress.

They grind against each other in the back alley behind a cheap restaurant where Michael’s just hustled two locals in a game of pool.

Alex finally gets that shower blow job.

They fuck in the sleeping bag.

Alex bends Michael over the hood of his truck and takes him apart with his fingers, his mouth, his dick.

And on, and on.

They talk, too.

That’s perhaps the more surprising part, to Alex. They’re two healthy 18 year olds (finally), so of _course _he expected (longed for?) the sex. But it’s the intimacy afterwards that catches him off guard.

They’ve just finished, and it was intense, in a way that face to face sex always is for Alex. Michael had entered him fast, but had fucked into him almost lazily, holding Alex’s wrists in place above his head, forcing more eye contact than was typical for them. They were in the truck bed, and with Michael’s full weight on top of him, his curls silhouetted by the moon and stars, Alex had found himself becoming emotional, turning away from Michael’s gaze and blinking back tears. Michael had stilled right away, of course, had been so concerned about hurting Alex, but Alex had urged him on, and they’d come quickly after that.

“I’m sorry,” whispers Alex.

“Sorry for what?” Michael asks lightly. “Making me forget my own name?”

“Sorry for dragging you into this,” Alex says softly. “It’ll be fall soon, and I’ve never apologized, never asked what you left behind.”

“No one,” Michael says after a long pause, and Alex can hear the waver of emotion in his voice. “There’s no one that cares about me back in Roswell.” Michael rolls on his side so his mouth is closer to Alex’s ear. “I did, um… I did get a full scholarship to UNM. If I’d stayed, if _we’d _stayed, I probably would have been starting soon.”

Alex sits up in surprise. The sudden movement makes him nauseous. “My god, Michael, what? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Doesn’t matter now, does it?” He doesn’t sound mad at all, just… flat. Accepting. “Once your dad decided to choke you out in the shed it kind of set us all on a different path, didn’t it?” Alex just stares down at him, face scrunched up in pain. Michael is too quiet for a long moment, and seems to be considering something.

“That wasn’t the first run-in I ever had with your dad,” he finally says.

”What?” Alex looks at him with something akin to shock.

“It’s one of my earliest memories, actually,” Michael says, and now Alex is _really _paying attention. Michael never talks about his childhood beyond the most basic of information. “They found me out wandering the desert, naked. I’ve told you that, right? They guessed I was seven, but who the hell knows. Anyway, they took me to this little group home. I couldn’t speak; I didn’t understand English. People would come in and look at me, then go away. One day a man came in. It was your Dad. He kept pointing at me and… at me. He looked so angry. I remember the manager of the group home actually made him leave. Given how shitty my actual placements were, your dad must have been a real fucking trip.” He exhales deeply. “I never saw him again. Not till the goddamn shed.” Michael shook his head. “I have no idea what he could have wanted, all those years ago. Nothing good.”

Michael is silent then, and Alex can tell that the conversation is over, even though Alex’s brain keeps chewing over the information Michael’s just given him. What could his dad have wanted with Michael, all those years ago? What could he have done that spooked the group home people so much?

“Hey,” says Michael, and it breaks Alex’s reverie. “Earth to Alex – you with me?” He nods. “I was just saying that maybe we do need a little bit of a plan. We probably can’t just drive and fuck forever,” Michael says, his smile lopsided in that flirtatious way that Alex can’t resist. “You ever seen the ocean?”

“No,” responds Alex, a smile beginning to spread on his face. “You choose – Atlantic or Pacific?”

***

It’s night when they finally reach the South Carolina coast, and there’s a full moon.

“I need to see it,” says Michael, pulling the truck into the deserted public access lot. He grabs a flashlight. “You coming?”

“Of course,” Alex grins. He’s excited, too, fumbling with the seatbelt and giddy with the thought of seeing the ocean for the first time. They’ve been able to smell it for miles. Michael’s a little ahead of him, and in the light from the high rises, Alex can see that Michael is stripping off his shirt, removing his shoes, unbuckling his jeans…

“What the hell?” he cries as Michael’s boxers come off.

“I didn’t come to a fucking ocean NOT to skinny dip,” he retorts.

“Fuck,” Alex mutters, following suit. “You better not get us arrested,” he hisses.

Michael just laughs and runs straight into the water.

“Not too far!” calls Alex, hustling to the water’s edge. With a deep breath and a shake of his head, he’s in the water too.

It’s warm, warmer than he expected. The moon’s reflection is glittering on the surface of the water, and Michael’s bare torso looks black against the night sky. To Alex’s relief, Michael hasn’t gone far. As soon as Alex is within arm’s reach, Michael seizes his hands and is pulling him flush against him.

“I love you, Alex.”

Alex can barely hear him over the crash of the waves, but there it is, unmistakable. He embraces Michael. “I love you, too.”

And then Michael is reaching down between them, hand circling over the both of them. Alex gasps at the suddenness of it, the way it feels in the salty wetness of the ocean, out in the open, with the whole sky above them. Shamelessly they move against one another, gasping and kissing, until finally they’re spent. Alex feels boneless, as if he would just slip under the waves if Michael wasn’t there to support him.

“I want to live in this moment,” he manages to get out. “Right here, with you.”

“Me too,” Michael says. “Me too.”


	2. But if you're willing to play the game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There be angst ahead...

**PRESENT**

“Hurry up, Michael, we’re going to be late again!”

“Ronnie won’t care,” Michael yells from the shower. “Besides, I’ll get more tips if I don’t smell like shrimp.”

Alex huffs angrily. “You’d get tips if you rolled around in shit on the way over, and you know it.”

Alex can hear the amusement in Michael’s voice. “I would, wouldn’t I?”

Michael exits the shower nude, which just serves to piss Alex off even more. “You’re dripping all over the floor.”

Michael narrows his eyes at Alex, straightens up, and full-on shakes his head, like a dog would, sending droplets everywhere. “Oops.”

Alex has had it. “This isn’t even our house! I swear to god, Michael… this is gonna be the third time in a month that we’ve turned up late!”

Now Michael is mad, too. “Boy, I must really be slipping if my dick’s out and you’re lecturing me on punctuality.” He quickly pulls on boxers, jeans and a dark, tight t-shirt. “I think the drunk tourists can wait ten extra minutes for their pina coladas and shitty cover songs.” Alex’s face falls, and Michael instantly knows he’s gone too far. “Dammit, I’m sorry, Alex,” he says, but Alex is already halfway out the door, slamming it behind him for good measure.

The drive to the restaurant is tense and silent in an all-too familiar way. Alex hates it, but he doesn’t want to be the first one to speak up. They park, and Michael looks at him expectantly. Alex just exits the truck with his guitar and makes a beeline for the service entrance. He greets Dan and Jerome. Turns out Kevin is running behind, too, go figure. They make quick work of setting up at the little stage. It’s a nice night tonight, so they’ll play outside. Tips are always better when the weather’s nice. As Alex tunes his guitar, he sneaks a glance at the bar, where Michael is already showing off, doing little bar tricks with a cocktail shaker for a very tan, very flirtatious tourist. Michael’s laughing in an easy, practiced manner, his gaze subtly sliding over the woman’s figure before he meets her eyes. She’s gesturing to a high top of women – they look like a fucking sorority – and Michael gives a nod and a smile in their direction.

Alex rolls his eyes. Looks like someone’s going to get tipped well tonight.

The flirting used to really bug him. He told Michael so, and Michael downplayed it, initially, before they found a way to work through it…

_They were in bed together, the little full-sized mattress barely containing both their bodies. “It’s part of the job,” Michael explained, tension written on his face. “Gotta get those tips.”_

_“Still,” said Alex. “It’s hard to watch sometimes. That girl last night was pretty aggressive.”_

_“Wooo, yeah,” Michael said, exhaling and rolling his eyes. “And I think she only left me, like, two dollars. After all those margaritas.” He laughed a little, but Alex’s face was still downcast. “Hey. You’re the one I go home with every night. The people at the bar? It’s not real.”_

_Alex nodded solemnly._

_And the next night, between sets, he cozied up to the bar himself._

_“What’s good here?” he asked Michael. Michael looked at him for a long moment, confused. Alex raised an eyebrow, and suddenly Michael got with the program, a little smirk on his face. _

_“What do you usually like?”_

_“Oh, I dunno… whiskey, beer.”_

_Michael gave a pleased little nod. “Ah, I see – a real man’s man.”_

_“Ha, you could say that,” Alex laughed._

_“I have just the drink for you.” Michael pulled out one of the really good whiskeys and poured Alex a little half-shot. Michael touched a finger to his lips and winked at Alex. “It’s on the house,” he said in a faux-whisper._

_“Our little secret,” Alex winked back. “My lips are sealed.”_

_“Ohhh, I hope not,” said Michael._

_Within three minutes, Michael was on an unexpected break, his back pressed against the wooden door of the locked bathroom stall as Alex took his cock down his throat._

Jerome’s looking at Alex, his face a little concerned. “You ready, man? We’re already getting a late start.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Alex says. “I’m ready.” How long had it been since they’d pretended to be tourists for each other? It hadn’t happened yet this season…

Jerome begins the countdown. “A 1, a 2, a 1, 2, 3… _Nibblin’ on sponge cake, watchin’ the sun bake…”_

Alex strums his guitar and sneaks another glance at Michael. Their eyes meet, and Michael’s fake smile slips just a little.

“_Wastin’ away again in Margaritaville…”_

***

The band takes a break after a few songs, and Alex goes to the bar. He’s still ticked at Michael, so he seeks out Angela instead. “Just a water,” he says, and she looks at him, surprised. When she finally realizes he’s not messing with her, she shrugs and slides an ice water in his direction. Alex heads back to the stage to rest for a few more minutes, and that’s when _she _enters.

Alex is used to seeing attractive people come to the restaurant. Duck’s an island town in the Outer Banks, and they’ve been working here every summer for the past five years. They’ve been here at Fishhooks that whole time, in the evenings – Michael tending bar and Alex playing guitar with the house band. This year, Michael’s working on a shrimp boat in the mornings while Alex does landscaping and pool maintenance. Everything’s under the table, of course. It can’t not be, not with his dad still out there…

Alex watches the restaurant watch the woman, and he can’t blame them. She’s beautiful, because of _course _she is, but more than that, she’s striking. She must be close to six feet tall. She’s perfectly tanned, with long blonde hair swept up into a tight ponytail that swishes against her back when she walks. She’s wearing a brightly patterned silk maxi dress that clings to her chest like a second skin, held in place only by a thin tie at the neck. Alex is _gay, _so fucking gay, but even he is aware that with just one tiny tug, this gorgeous woman would be bare before him. It’s an overtly sexy look, but still somehow elegant.

The guys in the band are watching.

The sunburned father of four at table 12 is watching.

Michael… Michael is openly staring. Fuck it, though, Alex is watching, too, and it’s not like he has any sexual interest whatsoever. Out of curiosity, he eyes the woman’s companion. He’s attractive, too, in a bland, preppy kind of way. Alex can see that the guy is getting a kick out of the way his girlfriend is being received.

Not girlfriend, Alex amends, taking in the enormous diamond ring on the woman’s left hand. Wife. These two are married. They’ve never been in here before. Alex would have remembered. They settle at a high top table near the bar, with a good view of the band. The man gets up, presumably to get them drinks, but the woman raises a hand, kisses him, and goes to the bar instead. Straight to Michael.

Michael’s not even smiling. He’s still just staring at this woman, like he’s trying to figure out a riddle. Oddly enough, the woman has a similar look of concentration on her face. She suddenly narrows her eyes at Michael, and it’s as if he freezes for a moment, before coming back to himself, gasping. There’s a look of shock on his face, now, and his eyes are wide, so wide, as the woman reaches out to him and grabs his hand. Michael’s grabbing it right back, shaking his head in wonder and saying something that Alex can’t make out. Alex can see the exact moment that Michael’s self-awareness kicks back in. His head snaps up and he meets Alex’s gaze, and drops the woman’s hand as if he’s been burned. Eyes flit to Alex, then back to the woman. He leans in close to her to whisper something, and she nods.

What the fuck is happening right now? Alex doesn’t know what to think. He’s about to cross to the bar himself and demand some answers from Michael when Jerome taps him on the shoulder. Shit. Break’s over. Alex sets up, and the music starts.

“_Hip Hip…”_

As he plays, he watches Michael. Michael keeps making drinks and small talk, but his attention is clearly on the woman. It’s like he’s fucking drinking her in, and she’s doing the same.

“_On an island in the sun, we’ll be playing and having fun…”_

And now Michael’s whispering something to Angela, patting her on the back and leaving the bar. And, only ten seconds later, the woman’s following him.

Alex is dumbfounded. It takes an elbow from Jerome to bring him back to the present. He realizes that he’s stopped playing, stopped singing harmonies. He clears his throat. “_Hip Hip…”_

The guys in the band are giving him weird looks, but the crowd doesn’t seem bothered.

Alex feels trapped. He makes it through _Brandy _and _Carolina In My Mind_. Still no Michael, goddammit. The band is mid-_Kokomo _when the woman finally glides back to her seat. Her ponytail is still sleek and tight, so there’s that, at least. She looks at her husband intensely, kisses him, and settles in next to him as if nothing’s happened. Michael is back behind the bar within seconds, looking happy and a little dazed. He catches the woman’s eye and smiles, a big, genuine toothy grin. She gives him a little smile back before redirecting her attention to the band. She and her husband finish up their drinks, then leave. Alex imagines they have dinner reservations at one of the swankier places on the island. He doesn’t miss the major cash she leaves for Michael when she goes, complete with another lingering, mutual look.

Alex phones it in through _No Shoes, No Shirt, No Problems _and then it’s time for another break. He stalks straight to the bar. “What the _fuck, _Michael?”

Michael seems startled. “What’s wrong? You still mad about earlier? I really am sorry about what I said. You guys sound good tonight.”

“I saw you leave with that woman.”

Michael’s thrown. “What? What woman?”

Alex leans closer. “Cut the shit, Michael. The blonde. The one you were eye fucking. Or maybe real fucking? The two of you were gone long enough.”

Michael’s expression is harsh and angry in a way it rarely is, and almost _never _is with Alex. “_Shut_. _Up_. Nothing happened. Are you drunk?”

Alex laughs meanly. “No, tonight I’m actually not. Ask Angela. It’s been water all night for me. Of all fucking nights. Maybe I should change that.”

“We need to talk about this, but not here. Later.”

“Sure, later,” Alex says sarcastically. “I’ve been trying to get you to talk for years, Michael, so excuse me if I’m not holding my breath.” Alex walks back to the little stage, and the rest of the night passes relatively uneventfully, the occasional angry look passing between Michael and Alex until it’s closing time.

Alex has carefully packed up his guitar and is waiting for Michael by the truck. The guitar’s a nice one – a gift from Michael for Alex’s 21st birthday. Alex still doesn’t know how he was able to afford it, and Michael’s never told him. That had been a nice night – bonfire on the beach, followed by a weekend of memorable sex at a little dockside motel on the coast of Georgia. Things were good, then, between them. Alex wishes it could be like that again.

Alex looks up, and Michael is walking toward the truck. He can tell that Michael’s angry by the tension in his shoulders. “Should be open,” Michael says roughly, and Alex bites back a sharp reply. He’s forever trying to get Michael to be more attentive to shit like locking up his truck or turning off lights.

Michael shuts his door with a little too much force and quickly pulls out of the Fishhooks parking lot. He glances at Alex, but doesn’t say anything the whole ride back.

The first few summers they worked at Duck, they lived on the mainland, almost forty minutes away in a series of cheap little sublets. Housing on the island itself was way out of their price range. However, the last two years, through connections at Fishhooks, they had secured much nicer housing and made some extra cash by housesitting for wealthy homeowners who weren’t able to make it to the Outer Banks over the summer, but also weren’t looking to rent out their homes to tourists.

This summer, they were staying at the beach house of a Fishhooks regular, Darlene Billings. Her husband was a surgeon based out of Winston-Salem. Darlene typically stayed the whole summer at Duck, with her husband joining her for long weekends, but this year she’d had a knee replacement. Michael had a real knack for getting to know people, charming them, and Darlene was no different. Sometimes it annoyed Alex, but in this case he was grateful. Not only did they not have to scramble for housing, but they were actually _being paid_ just to stay in a beautiful vacation home.

Honestly, though, he sometimes longed for those early days when it was just him and Michael, sleeping in the truck bed under the stars.

Michael sniffs the air between them. “Smells like Angela hooked you up. Thought we weren’t doing that anymore.”

Alex shrugs. “I guess she felt bad that my boyfriend was all over some Amazonian tourist in full view of everyone.”

“All over_? _The _fuck, _Alex? I touched her fucking hand, that’s _it._”

“What else did you touch when you two left together?”

“I told you already, nothing happened.” Alex is looking at him skeptically, and Michael just shakes his head. “You know what, no, I’m not doing this with you right now. You’re drunk, and high – “

“And you’re hiding something!”

Michael stills at that, and Alex thinks he sees a flicker of fear. “I meant it when I said we needed to talk. We’re both off tomorrow night. That work for you?”

Alex sighs, exasperated. “You know it does.”

Michael finally exits the pickup and unlocks the beach house. “I’ll take the guest room,” he mutters.

***

Michael is already gone by the time Alex wakes up, hungover. He doesn’t feel bad about confronting Michael, but he does feel bad about the way he did it… and the drinking and smoking. He has extra coffee and waits for the crew to pick him up for the morning’s landscaping jobs. They finish early, and Alex walks straight to the pool supply store on the main drag to check on his afternoon jobs. There are just a few, and he gets through them quickly. Alex walks back to the beach house and is surprised to see Michael’s truck already out front.

“You’re home early,” says Michael when Alex enters.

“I could say the same to you,” Alex replies, taking in the scene. Michael doesn’t smell like shrimp, which means he’s already showered, but his hair isn’t wet, so he must have been home for a while… or he was never out on the water today. “How was work?” he asks casually.

“Fine,” Michael shrugs.

“Mmm,” Alex replies noncommittally. “I’m going to get cleaned up, then I think we should have that talk.”

“Yeah, okay,” says Michael, and he sounds nervous. Alex wonders if he was hoping Alex would just drop it. That was their pattern after all, wasn’t it? Ignore shit, explode, have makeup sex, ignore shit again… Alex gets in the shower and carefully scrutinizes it. Nothing’s wet, and Michael’s toiletries haven’t moved. If he showered, it wasn’t here.

“Fuck…” Alex mutters. Michael lied to him. No way was work fine. He didn’t even go. With the water running, Alex calls Wes.

“Alex!” Wes answers. “What’s up? How’s Michael feeling?”

Alex bites his lip. Shit, shit shit. “Oh… you know… still under the weather,” Alex lies, pressing the heel of his hand against the space between his eyebrows, willing the tears to stay away.

“Sorry to hear that,” says Wes sympathetically. “Do you think he’ll be good to go tomorrow, or will he need another day off?”

“He’ll need another day,” Alex chokes out. “Talk to you later.” He doesn’t even wait for Wes’s reply before ending the call and letting his tears fall freely.

***

“I’m glad we’re not the ones paying for hot water,” comments Michael.

Alex just stares at him and sits down stonily in the chair farthest from Michael. He takes a deep breath and looks Michael right in the eye. “I know you weren’t at work today.” He holds up his hand to stop Michael’s retort. “I talked to Wes.” Michael’s jaw snaps shut. “All I want,” Alex continues, willing his voice to stay steady, “is the truth. Did you see that woman again?”

He sees the moment Michael decides to be honest. They’ve been together long enough that he knows his tells. Michael’s shoulders slump, and his lip juts out. “Yes.”

Alex makes an awful sound.

“It’s not what you think though!” Michael says.

“No, no, don’t make up some stupid story!” Alex yells. “Did you fuck her?”

“NO!” Michael shouts. He seems genuinely affronted, and it gives Alex pause. “Please would you just listen to me?” Alex crosses his arms and stares at Michael. Michael’s raking a hand through his curls. “You, you know how I told you about when I was found? In the desert?”

This… this was _not _what Alex was expecting. Michael had his attention, he’d give him that.

“I wasn’t alone. There were two other kids with me. A boy and, and a girl. Isobel, that’s the woman’s name, she’s that little girl.”

Alex clenches his jaw. “I swear to god, Michael, if this is a lie, if _this _is the fucking story you’re going with to cover up a goddamn hookup…”

“Would I lie about this?” There’s a hardness in Michael’s eyes that Alex doesn’t like. “Would I?”

“No,” Alex says quietly. “No, I don’t think you would.” Michael softens a little, but Alex needs more answers. “How did you know it was her?”

“I just _knew, _man, I dunno…” Michael shakes his head. “She walked into the bar, and it was like we were just drawn to each other.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” said Alex dryly.

“It felt like I knew her, and apparently she had the same feeling, and then we talked and confirmed it.”

“And you believe her? Like, you don’t think she’s just making this up?”

“No. The things she knew, about when we were found… only she could know that.” Michael hung his head for a moment, then looked at Alex. “I’ve always wondered what happened to her, and the other boy. That’s where I was today, meeting up with her at her rental. She filled me in on everything. I even Facetimed with her brother, Max.” He saw Alex’s confusion. “They were raised as twins, actually. We honestly don’t know if we’re all related or what.”

Alex is a little relieved at that.

“They were adopted together right out of the group home by a nice couple and raised outside Santa Fe.” He sees Alex’s stricken look. “Lucky them, right?”

“Who just leaves behind a third kid?” Alex wonders.

“I was a fucking mess,” Michael says matter-of-factly, as if that’s an explanation.

“You were _seven._”

Michael shrugs and looks away, the way he does when he’s trying to downplay how hurt he is. Alex wants to cross to him, hug him, but Michael starts talking again.

“She lives in Taos now. Sounds real upscale – I mean, you’ve seen her. Her husband’s family’s from Virginia, though, and she’s here doing the whole beach vacation thing with his family.” Michael bites his lip. “She, uh, she invited me to visit her out there.” He looks up at Alex. “She says she’ll pay for the plane ticket and everything. I _want _to go.”

Alex looks skyward and exhales deeply. “Michael…” He shakes his head. “You know we can’t.”

“_Can’t _we?” Michael rubs his hands on his jeans. “Alex, come on, it’s been _ten years._”

Fuck, they’re back to this. Alex knows that Michael thinks he’s paranoid, but hell, Alex thinks Michael’s reckless. It’s one of their most fundamental disagreements, and Alex wasn’t expecting to have it surface now, like this. He’d been expecting to confront Michael about cheating, and they were going to fight about his dad instead.

“I’m sorry. I’m sure you want to get to know your family, but we just can’t take the risk of flying. That requires an ID, a _legal _one, and it’s New Mexico of _all _places.”

Michael is very quiet. “This means a lot to me, Alex,” he finally says. “A _lot._ You… you can’t imagine.”

“We’ve been _so _careful,” Alex murmurs. He knows things have been tense lately, but he loves Michael, so much. All he wants is for him to be safe, but he doesn’t want to disappoint him, either. It’s not often that Michael asks for anything for himself. “Maybe…” he finally says, “maybe we can drive out there?”

Michael releases a deep breath. “Yes, god, _thank_ you.” He gets up and wraps his arms around Alex, surprising him with the force of the embrace. “Seriously, thank you so much. Once the season wraps up here, maybe we can head out?”

“Okay,” Alex agrees.

***

Michael has Alex on his elbows and knees on the bed, fingers digging into his hips. He’s driving into him mercilessly, and Alex is egging him on.

“Fuck yeah, just like that,” Alex grits out, pushing back.

“Oh fuck,” Michael cries out as he comes. They’re still for a moment before Michael carefully removes himself. Suddenly, Alex is on his back, and how the fuck does Michael do that? They’re almost the same size, but Michael can somehow maneuver him around like he’s practically weightless. Alex is caught off guard until, like a flash, he registers Michael’s warm, wet mouth around his dick, pulling an orgasm from him in under a minute.

“Oh my _god, _Michael, come here,” Alex gasps, pulling Michael up and giving him a sloppy kiss. Michael kisses back, and Alex feels the sex for what it is – an apology and a thank you, all in one. Michael grants him a little smile, then leaves the bed. By the time he returns from the bathroom, Alex still hasn’t moved. Michael sinks down on the bed and chuckles a little, running a hand through Alex’s hair.

“That good, huh?”

“Uh, yeah,” Alex replies with a little laugh. “It’s been a while since we did it like that.”

“Too long,” Michael says, fond but a little sad.

By the time Alex cleans up, Michael’s under the sheets. Alex cozies up to him and begins to rub his back. “so… I’m really glad Isobel’s your sister and not, like, your affair partner.”

Michael takes it for the olive branch it is. “Yeah, god, that had to have looked pretty bad, now that I think about it.”

Alex snorts a little. “Yeah, it really did.”

“Leaving the whole brother-sister thing aside, I don’t think I’m her type. I don’t have any shorts with animals on them.”

Alex laughs. “And thank god for that.” Alex continues rubbing Michael’s back in comfortable silence. “Sounds like Isobel told you a lot about her life,” Alex finally says. “What did you tell her?”

“I told her a little bit about my placements after the group home, then said that some shit went down in Roswell, so we had to leave town. No details, though. Nothing about your dad.”

“Okay,” Alex says. “Do you think we can trust her? And your brother?”

Michael laughs wryly. “Yeah. I think they can keep a secret.”

***

The woman, Isobel, comes into the bar almost every night that week. She has her husband with her about half the time. Michael looks so damn happy – happier than Alex has seen him in years. A part of Alex is jealous, but he’s mostly relieved. They’re not arguing as much, the sex has been even better than usual, and Michael can’t stop talking about visiting Isobel and Max in New Mexico. Michael even introduces Alex to Isobel, who seems nice enough, if a bit high-strung. It’s Isobel’s last night in town, and Alex sees her and Michael huddled close at the bar. He sneaks up playfully, wanting to surprise them, but stops in his tracks when he overhears exactly what they’re saying.

“Does he know?” Isobel asks Michael.

Michael tenses and takes a too-large gulp of whiskey. He grimaces. “No.” He stares at her. “Your husband know?”

Isobel shakes her head. “No. No one knows. That’s pretty much our one rule.”

Alex slinks away. He _wants _to trust Michael. He _wants_ to.

***

“I’m so ready for some good Mexican food. Seriously, the stuff here is such shit.”

“Agreed,” Alex laughs. “Mr. Ortecho used to make such great enchiladas at the Crashdown. I forget what they were called now. One of those funny alien names.”

Michael makes a sour expression. “God, yeah, that’s right.” His face drops a bit. “I, I don’t think I ever had the enchiladas there.”

“Never had them? What?”

Michael shrugs. “I wasn’t exactly going out to eat a lot.”

Alex looks at him softly. “We’ll get you some enchiladas in Taos. For sure.”

“Can’t wait,” says Michael with a grin. He stops packing for a moment, looks at Alex, then back down again at his duffel. “Listen, um, I’ve been thinking… how would you feel about maybe staying out west for a while? Like, close to Max and Isobel?”

“Michael,” Alex says warily. He’s honestly been expecting a conversation like this, just not so soon. “I feel like we’re already taking a big risk just heading back west, let alone to New Mexico. Living and working out there? It just feels dangerous to me.”

“It feels dangerous to you…” Michael repeats. He’s stopped packing, and he’s sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. Not a good sign. “Of _course _it does…”

Alex cocks his head and meets Michael’s gaze, daring him to continue.

“I wasn’t going to bring this up, man, but I feel like I have to.” Michael shakes his head. “It’s been ten years. Ten _fucking_ years! For ten years, I’ve done everything you’ve wanted.”

Alex feels his heart dropping.

“I’ve gone on the run. I’ve stayed hidden. I’ve worked one shit job after another. And believe me, that was necessary, at first. I know it was. Your dad’s a fucking psychopath.”

Michael’s scraping a hand over his face and mouth. There’ve been so many times over the last ten years that Alex has wished Michael would open up to him, talk to him. Right now, though, Alex just wants him to _stop talking._

“But this has gone on too long. I want you to have a life. _I_ want to have a life. I want, I want _us _to have a life! Together! This, what we’re doing right now?” Michael gestures in the air between them. “It’s wearing on us, man, you know it is.”

Alex ducks his head, feeling the truth of Michael’s words.

“I feel like we’re pissing our lives away here, and I want more with you. I just feel like maybe, if we go back west, get to know my family, it could be a new start?”

Michael looks so young, so hopeful that Alex has to blink back tears. Michael sees and crosses to him, touching the side of his face. “Please, Alex?”

“Michael,” Alex murmurs, voice breaking. He presses his forehead to Michael’s. “I want to… I really, really do. It’s just… you don’t know my dad like I do. If we slip up, just _once_, he’ll find us, and I couldn’t, I couldn’t take it if something happened to you because of me. Because of _him.”_

Michael’s hand is running through Alex’s hair rhythmically, soothingly. “He’s had ten years. Ten years and there’s been nothing.”

Alex looks at Michael pleadingly. He has to make him understand. “That’s only because we’ve been careful.”

Michael bites his lip and pulls back a bit. “Alex…” Michael stares at him, seemingly weighing what he’s about to say. “I… I need to tell you something. I should have told you a while ago, but I didn’t, and I’m sorry.”

Alex tenses. “What… what is it?”

Michael runs his hands down the length of Alex’s arms until he’s holding Alex’s hands. He swallows hard and doesn’t make eye contact. “I went down to Winston-Salem, to one of the big banks there. I opened an account.”

“The _fuck, _Michael?” Alex hisses, wrenching his hands from Michael’s. This was against their rules, their agreements. Leave no fucking trace. “When?”

Michael meets Alex’s eyes, gaze surprisingly steady. “Three years ago.”

Alex is gaping at him, dumbfounded. “Three… three years?” The hair on the back of his neck is standing up. “Three years and you let us keep coming back to the same fucking area?”

“Nothing’s happened!” Michael exclaims.

Alex shakes his head bitterly. “He’s just biding his goddamn time,” he muttered. “I can’t believe you would do this.”

“Fuck,” Michael swears. “I know you’re mad, and I should have told you, but can a part of you at least acknowledge that this could be a good thing?” Alex scoffs. “I mean, maybe he’s dropped it! Like, we’re 28 now, not 18. He, he doesn’t have the same sort of power over us he used to, right?”

Alex laughs bitterly. “You don’t have a fucking clue.”

Michael’s eyes narrow. “Don’t I?” He shakes his head, almost to himself. “No, we’re not gonna do this, not gonna play who had the shittier childhood.” Michael sighs. It’s over the top, exaggerated, and Alex can tell he’s losing patience. “I knew you’d react like this,” he mutters, half to himself. “That’s why I don’t tell you shit!”

Alex’s brain is moving fast, gathering ammo. “You sure don’t do you? Let’s see… you _never_ told me you had siblings. You didn’t tell me you opened a fucking bank account. You lied about skipping work to meet Isobel. What else aren’t you telling me?”

Michael looks away. Guiltily.

“Holy shit, there _is_ something else.” Alex is right in Michaels’ face, studying him.

“I… I…” Michael starts. He can’t seem to bring himself to finish his thought, and Alex is livid.

“Say something!”

“I’m… I’m…” Michael’s shaking his head, so distressed. “I’ve been gambling again!”

“_Fuck…” _Alex groans, wiping his palm over his face and turning away from Michael. “It’s just one fucking thing after another today… After all that shit on the riverboat, you quit, you promised you quit!”

“Like _you’ve_ never broken a fucking promise!”

The bitterness takes Alex aback. “What are you talking about?”

“The Everglades, Alex.”

Alex freezes. There are things they never talk about. The shed. The riverboat. The goddamn Everglades.

He starts crying, messy and awful.

Michael looks miserable, head hanging low and eyes downcast. He’s wiping at his nose with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry, Alex,” he says, voice not much above a whisper. Michael begins to move, as if to get closer to Alex, but Alex takes a step back, away from him.

“Why did you stay all this time?” Alex finally asks, his voice hoarse and broken. “I know you’re not happy, Michael. I know you think I’m a goddamn coward – “

“No,” Michael interjects, shaking his head forcefully. “You’re _not _a coward, Alex.”

“Oh yes I fucking am,” Alex laughs mirthlessly. “I’m a 28 year old man who’s still scared shitless of his own father. I’m a fucking pussy.”

“_Stop_ it, Alex,” Michael urges. “That’s your dad talking, not you.”

“I should have listened to him, you know.”

“What?”

“Should’ve kept my dick in my pants, back in high school.” Michael is shaking his head at Alex, so hurt. “Come _on, _Michael, you know it’s true! You can’t tell me a quick high school fuck was worth ten years of hell.”

“Don’t you do this, Alex,” Michael glares at him through the tears. “It _hasn’t_ been hell. Just stop!”

“You’d have been off at UNM on your full fucking ride, ‘experimenting’ with some other guy, probably banging a different girl every weekend.”

“We weren’t a fucking _experiment, _Alex, god damn it!”

“I wouldn’t have had my fucking throat crushed.” Alex shakes his head. “Seriously, is that why you stayed? Was I a pity case?” Alex sneers, then pouts. “Poor abused little asshole who can’t take care of himself, let alone anyone else...” Alex knows, deep inside him, that he’s hurting Michael, badly, but a part of him doesn’t want to stop, wants to get out all of the vileness that’s so obviously been building in him for such a long, long time. His father had known about it. Wasn’t it time Michael realized it too?

“That’s not why I stayed and you know it!”

“Then why, Michael? Why the fuck did you stay after the shed? Why’d you stay after the Everglades? Why stay now?” And then it hits Alex – suddenly, terribly. His eyes narrow, and he slides right up to Michael, getting into his personal space, going for the kill. “Or maybe you just wanted me to keep my mouth shut, about all the stuff I’ve seen that I can’t explain.”

Michael inhales sharply. He looks terrified, and Alex, god help him, knows he’s hit his mark and _just keeps going._

“It’s been you, hasn’t it? Holy fucking shit…” He’s figuring it out real-time, and it’s blowing his mind. “My dad, in the shed, all the crazy winning streaks at the craps tables, that, that cop car in the Everglades, the way you have never fucking dropped a glass, not _once, _when you do all those stupid bar tricks...”

Tears are streaming down Michael’s face and he isn’t even fighting them, just shaking his head from side to side. “No,” he keeps mouthing, silently. “No.”

Alex feels possessed. “How are you doing it? Tell me right now, how?”

Michael is actually _biting _his own fist. Alex flinches, but he doesn’t retreat. “HOW?”

“I stayed because I _love_ you, Alex,” Michael whispers. “Please don’t ask me this…”

“_How?” _Alex repeats.

“Fuck, come _on_, Alex,” Michael pleads. “You know me… you know everything about me that matters,” he sobs, reaching out.

Alex steps back. “No. I don’t think I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Stay tuned for Part 3: Future.


	3. (Play the game)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex must confront the ways past events have affected him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a warning, this chapter contains a brief description of a coercive, non-consensual sexual encounter, as well as brief mentions of irresponsible sexual encounters that occur under the influence. Please be aware of this before proceeding. Also, this chapter contains a detailed depiction of therapy. Please read at your own discretion.
> 
> Also, this story has run away with me and is now four parts. The next and final part will also be set in the future.

**FUTURE (Part 1)**

“Mr. Manes, thank you for coming in today. You can have a seat wherever you prefer.”

“Thanks.” Alex scans the room quickly and sits on the little leather couch.

The woman sinks down into the armchair across from him. “I’m Dr. Khan, and I’ll be doing your intake today. I appreciate you filling out the questionnaires online – I’ve reviewed them, but I do have some additional questions for you about your background and your symptoms. Did you have any questions about the informed consent and attendance procedures?”

Alex tries to remember. He filled out the paperwork a few days ago, and it had taken longer than expected. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Alright then, we’ll just go ahead and get started. In your own words, briefly, what brings you in today?”

Well, fuck, that could be a novel right there. Alex sighs. “Well, the short answer is, I have insurance now, and at least a little bit of free time.” He laughs a little, and the psychologist gives a small, polite smile. “Um, longer answer is that this has probably been a long time coming. I had a really difficult childhood, and my 20s were tough too, and I’ve never really talked about it with anyone. I’m actually doing better now than I was even a few years ago, but it just seems like the older I get, I’m realizing that some of the things from my past really screwed me up, and I feel like I should talk to someone about them.”

Dr. Khan nods and jots something down on her little notepad. She’s older than Alex, probably his mother’s age, with a severe bob and oversized, trendy glasses. Suddenly, Alex wonders what his mother even looks like now – it’s been almost 20 years…

“Thank you, Mr. Manes. Toward the end of this session, I’d like to talk about your current symptoms in a bit more detail. First, however, I want to make sure your background information is accurate, and I want to fill in a few blanks. Let’s just confirm demographics first. I see that you’re 34, identify as male, and sexual orientation is homosexual, correct?” Alex gives a little nod. “Ethnicity, you responded Caucasian and Native American.”

“That’s right.”

“Okay, I’m going to ask you a little bit about your childhood now. Where were you raised?”

“I grew up in Roswell, New Mexico.” Dr. Khan’s eyebrow quirks up a bit. “Yes, _that _Roswell,” Alex says with a little smile. “My first real job was actually working at a UFO museum.”

“I’m sure you have some stories,” Dr. Khan says with a smile.

“Oh yeah,” Alex responds politely, privately remembering the way Michael had kissed him stupid, so stupid in that very museum. If only he’d never shown up that day…

“Who raised you?”

“Well, my parents split up when I was young. My dad got custody of me and my three older brothers.” Alex had promised himself that he’d be as honest as possible, and this was his first test. He takes a deep breath. “My dad was really abusive toward me. Toward everyone in our family, really, but he definitely targeted me more than my brothers, especially starting when I was in my early teens.” Alex’s mouth twists a bit. “He hated that I was gay.”

Dr. Khan’s gaze is steady on him. “You said that your father was abusive – how so? Physically? Emotionally? Sexually?”

“Um, physically and emotionally. Most of the time, the physical stuff was, like, grabbing my shoulder too hard, pushing me around, stuff like that, but he definitely would full-on beat my ass sometimes, to the point where I was really hurt. Like, I definitely should have gone to the hospital more than I did, growing up. And he’d just, like, rip into me pretty much daily. Lots of times it was about, um, my sexuality, and being weak, not being a real man… shit like that.” Alex winces a little. Is it okay to swear in front of your psychologist?

Dr. Khan seems totally unfazed. “In the intake paperwork, there was a PTSD questionnaire. It asked you to identify your most traumatic event, and you indicated that your father physically assaulted you and injured your throat. Tell me a little bit about that incident.”

“He tried to kill me,” Alex states flatly. “He caught me in the toolshed behind our house with another guy. He choked me, to the point where I had a fractured larynx and needed surgery. He came really close to hitting me with a hammer, too, but the guy I was with, um, he knocked him unconscious before he could do anything else.”

“How do you feel like that event impacted you?”

Alex is silent, just looking down at his jeans. He shakes his head a little. “I… god…” He runs a hand through his hair. “That day… I just feel like everything in my life would be different right now if that hadn’t happened. Like, that is why I’m here. That one event set so much other shit in motion.” He looks up at the doctor. “My dad, he’s military. He terrified me. He still does. The only option I had that day was to just run. I was only 17. The guy I was with, he got roped into it, too.” Alex purses his lips. The way he’s telling this story feels so… disconnected, so removed, like it happened to someone else. He promised himself he’d be honest. He _has_ to be.

“His name was Michael, the guy that was in the shed with me. We… we were together ten years, like very seriously together.” Alex can feel a hot prickling behind his eyes, has to look away. “God, I’m sorry. This… this is hard to talk about.” He looks out Dr. Khan’s little window, takes a minute to collect himself. “We took off, left Roswell before my dad could come to. I’ve never been back. And then for ten years, we just… we were on the run, pretty much. Like, deep cover.”

Dr. Khan is looking at him questioningly. “I made sure that we only took jobs that would pay us in cash, under the table. We didn’t have real IDs, or legal tags, or anything, really. We used cash for everything. We definitely didn’t have insurance or anything like that, and a lot of times we would just camp out or sleep in our… in Michael’s truck. I was just constantly so, so scared that if we somehow did anything official, or on the books, my dad would get wind of it, and that would be it – he’d come after us, kill us.” Alex takes a shaky breath. “I mean, I _still _feel that way sometimes.”

“That sounds like a very tough way to live.”

Alex nods, exhales deeply. “It was.”

Khan gives him a minute. “Now, Mr. Manes, I want to back up for a second and just make sure I have the timeline straight. This incident in the tool shed – that happened when you were 17?” Alex nods to confirm. “Prior to that, how did you do in school? And did you graduate?”

Alex gives a little shrug. “I did fine in school. Nothing, like, amazing, but nothing bad either. Honestly, I think I did enough to get by and not have my dad get pissed at me. The graduation thing – that’s actually a really good question. Um, the shed happened right before we were scheduled to graduate. For years, I just assumed because we left town and never finished up school that we didn’t graduate. Then a few years back, when I decided to kind of test the waters, you know? Get, like, an aboveboard job and stuff? I actually called Roswell High, and I found out that because the school year had been pretty much over even before I left, I’d passed all my classes and technically had my degree.”

The psychologist is looking at him very seriously, her brow furrowed. “Okay. And then you were… under the radar for ten years, it sounds like. I don’t need all the details, but roughly, where did you go, what did you do for those ten years?”

Alex gives a low whistling sound. “Wow, there was a lot. Um, after we initially left New Mexico and I got the surgery on my throat in Oklahoma, we headed out east. Like, any kind of job you can work for cash, we’ve worked it. Diners, bars, restaurants, landscaping, seasonal stuff. We were on a Christmas tree farm down in North Carolina, citrus groves in Florida. Horse farm in Virginia. I did some pool maintenance, painting, odd jobs. We did some courier stuff. One of the better jobs, I played guitar at a seafood restaurant right on the beach. We mostly just kept moving around, though, stuck to the South because the weather was milder and we could sleep in the truck or camp out if we needed to.”

“When did that part of your life come to an end, and why?”

Ugh, here goes. “Michael and I, we had a fight.” He sees Dr. Khan’s expression, is quick to clarify. “Not, like, a physical fight. He and I never hit each other or got physical with each other like that. Michael – he was raised in the foster system. He’d had a tough time of it too, growing up. But we would definitely, like, scream at each other sometimes. Mostly we just didn’t talk about stuff, though, let it fester… everything kind of came to a head ten years in.” Alex has to be careful here. He’s planned this part out in advance of today’s session, exactly what to say and how to word it. He owes Michael a lot, and he certainly owes him that… “I, um, found out that Michael was keeping some stuff from me. About himself, like his background, and it just sort of sent me over the edge. I pushed him to come clean with me, and he wouldn’t. The day of our fight was the day we were supposed to head back West, to New Mexico, to meet up with some family Michael had just found out he had.” Alex is avoiding Dr. Khan’s eyes, just staring at the carpet. “I never ended up going. Michael did.”

Dr. Khan, damn her, doesn’t say anything, just lets the silence go on until Alex can’t take it anymore. “I loved him,” he blurts. “He, he saved my life, we spent ten fucking years together, and I just let him go. I never went after him, never saw him again after that.” Fuck, he’s crying now. Alex had told himself he’d keep it together, and here he was crying over Michael, like, ten minutes into session.

Dr. Khan slides a box of tissues toward him. Alex accepts one, gratefully. “It sounds like this is really painful to talk about.”

Alex looks skyward, sniffs. “Yeah, it is. A little rawer than I’d anticipated, honestly.”

“Well, that’s why we are here.”

Alex shrugs. “I guess so.”

Khan clears her throat. “So… after your relationship ended with Michael, what did you do?”

A bitter little laugh escapes Alex. “Oh god… I drank? Got high? Messed around with a bunch of random dudes?” He rocks forward in the chair a little. “Ugh, sorry… that was just a really bad time in my life. It lasted about a year. I was still, like, under the radar during that time. But then one day, I pretty much hit bottom and decided I needed to change, and the only way I could do that was if I started trying to be a little more, um… how to put it? Open, maybe?”

He’d woken up naked in a shady part of Miami next to a guy he didn’t know. He couldn’t remember even meeting the guy, let alone the sex they’d certainly had. He couldn’t remember what he’d taken, or if they’d used protection. He’d left the guy’s bed – futon, really – and went straight to one of those little internet cafes. That was where he’d logged into the bank account for the first time.

“Michael, before he left, he told me he’d opened a bank account. I flipped out on him, because that just seemed so… brazen. I was sure my dad would be able to trace us. But he’d apparently had it for years, and nothing had happened, so he thought we were in the clear.”

Dr. Khan is looking at him, confused.

“Michael was a gambler,” Alex says with no preamble, “a good one. He was apparently going gambling pretty regularly, behind my back, and he would deposit his winnings in this secret bank account. Right after he left, he had our old boss give me an envelope. In it, there was a letter, some cash. He left me the keys to his truck. And he also let me know the password to the bank account, and the fact that he had actually put _my _name on the account as well.”

Alex had nearly keeled over in the internet café when he saw how much money was in the account. Over a hundred thousand dollars. _How? _How the _fuck _had Michael been able to amass that much money without anyone knowing? Alex had actually gotten scared, in the café – tried to block the screen with his body as he stared at the account balance. Holy shit. The initial shock faded a little, and Alex began to navigate the website. With a start, he realized that he could pretty much track Michael during this whole year they’d been apart. He drank in the information greedily. If he was interpreting everything correctly, for the first few months Michael had only used the account for deposits and withdrawals. North Carolina, then New Mexico. About six months ago, though, Michael must have gotten some kind of debit card for the account, because Alex could see specifics.

3/19/2020: $9.19 – Taos Java, Taos, NM.

Alex smiled a little at that entry, imagining Michael offering to buy coffee for Isobel, or his brother, and maybe realizing he didn’t have cash and having to use the card for the first time.

3/26/2020: $25.51 – La Cueva Café, Taos, NM

A little guiltily, Alex googled the café and perused the menu. Enchiladas. He hoped Michael got the enchiladas.

He began to see regular deposits, in regular amounts, every two weeks. Automated. Michael must have gotten a job somewhere.

4/10/2020: $43.10 – Bar Uno, Albuquerque, NM.

That’s a big bar tab, especially for Michael, who usually sticks to cheap beer. Why’d he decide to go to Albuquerque?

4/11/2020: $113.92 – DoubleTree by Hilton Hotel, Albuquerque, NM.

That’s a one-room rate, probably. More googling. It’s walking distance from the bar.

4/11/2020: $25.25 – Slate Street Café, Albuquerque, NM.

Cutesy hipster place, definitely a breakfast for two situation. Alex feels a pang. Was… was this a hookup? Was this something more?

Was this something Michael would have wanted with Alex? A nice bar, a nice hotel, a nice breakfast afterwards? It was suddenly hard to breathe in the café. Alex looked down at himself, still in his grubby clothes from the night before, still hungover… He forced himself to keep reading.

There were more little charges, here and there, for bagels, donuts, La Cueva a few more times.

And about once a month, a trip to Albuquerque, always the same bar, the same hotel. Sometimes a different breakfast place, or just coffee.

And then, a month ago…

7/24/2020: $45.28 – Effex NightClub

A gay club. Alex, feeling masochistic, had clicked through the entire website. He imagined Michael at the venue, dancing with other guys, taking someone back to a hotel.

Yup – 7/25/2020: $113.92 – DoubleTree by Hilton Hotel, Albuquerque, NM.

And of course, 7/25/2020: $32.16 – Slate Street Café, Albuquerque, NM.

Alex knew he was being hypocritical, but fuck if this one didn’t hurt. He had no claims on Michael – hadn’t for a year, but the idea of Michael fucking some other guy made him feel wrecked. Then angry. Did Michael _want _Alex to know about this? He had given Alex the login to the account. He had to know that this was a possibility, Alex seeing all his spending. Maybe he just didn’t care anymore? A mean part of Alex wanted to just drain the account, fucking transfer everything over to himself, force the issue. If Michael was that pissed, he could come find Alex and yell at him in person. Would serve Michael right, for pulling such a stupid stunt. Alex felt the tears coming again. Who the hell _does _this? Opens a secret bank account and gives their ex carte blanche?

Someone who can guarantee the dice will always fall his way on a craps table, that’s who. Alex realized, now, that casinos were just blank checks to Michael. He was actually surprised at Michael’s restraint, that he’d stopped at a hundred grand and just didn’t keep going. Or maybe he had? Maybe this was just one account of many…

It hit Alex, then. Maybe Michael really had stayed for love, not because he’d pitied Alex, or needed his help to get by, or his silence to stay under the radar. Michael could have left at any time with his… abilities, even before the rich, long-lost sister swooped in out of the fucking blue. 

Alex scanned the rest of the entries. Bagels, Mexican food, gas, groceries. The monthly sex trip to Albuquerque. And then he saw it, posted only a few days ago. The biggest expense yet.

8/17/2020: $3,336 – University of New Mexico, Albuquerque, NM

Michael was going to school.

Khan is staring at him. “Anyway,” Alex says, clearing his throat, “it was a whole year before I logged into the account, and it just floored me. There was a ton of money in there, and I was able to see everything Michael’d been up to, over that last year, and, I guess the main thing was that he’d enrolled in college. And that, I suppose, was sort of a turning point for me. It just felt like he’d really moved on, and I had to, too. And, I know this sounds stupid, but it was relieving to see that he was just living his life, so openly, and my dad hadn’t come after him or anything. Made me think maybe I could do the same, to some extent.” There’s a scrubby little tree right outside the doctor’s window, and Alex focuses on it. 

“I started cleaning up my act, figured out how to kind of rejoin the land of legitimate work and life. I got an ID, tags for the truck. I started working as a barista at Starbucks, and I did well there. I’m a manager, now. I’ve moved around a bit, but that’s fine. I’m the guy they send in if a location is having trouble, or if a new one is opening up or something. That’s how I ended up here.”

“How long have you been living in the Austin area?”

“About two months. I’m still pretty new here.” Alex pauses. “It’s really nice. Still a southwestern feel but, like, way more open than Roswell.”

“Any concerns with your current job?”

Alex shakes his head. “No, that’s going really well. I mean, it can be tiring, sometimes, but it pays pretty well, and I have benefits and stuff. It’s fine. It’s good for me, I think.”

“Any other work history that you think I should be aware of?”

“Not really… Not sure if it matters, but at the last place I lived, Knoxville, I was giving guitar lessons on occasion.”

Khan flips the page on her notepad. “That leads to my next question. When you have some free time, what do you like to do?”

Alex considers the question. “Well, I like to play guitar, and I do yoga. Listen to music.”

“Alright, thank you.” Khan writes something. “Any significant medical history I should be aware of, aside from the fractured larynx?” Alex shakes his head. “Okay, let’s talk about relationships. You are currently unmarried, no children, correct?”

“That’s correct.”

Khan seems to consider her phrasing before continuing. “You told me that you were in a serious relationship for ten years with your ex, Michael. Are you currently in a relationship?”

“No,” Alex says tightly.

“Any other past significant relationships that I should be aware of?”

“Um, I dated a guy in Knoxville for about a year, Ben. He was really nice, a paramedic. Clean living, you know? He’s the one that got me into yoga and stuff.”

Khan regards him seriously. “In your opinion, what led to the end of that relationship?”

Alex laughs a little. “Me. Always me.” He shakes his head, almost to himself. “I got offered the position here, and I took it without even bringing it up with him. He was really hurt.” Alex bites his lip a little. “I guess I just… I didn’t think he’d care if I left. I was wrong, and I see that now.” He looks down. “I’ve thought a lot about this, and I’m glad we were together, but I don’t think I ever felt for him quite what he felt for me. He was a really good person, though.” Alex fidgets with his jeans. “He’d be glad I’m coming here.”

“Do you have any contact with your previous partners?”

“Ben and I have exchanged a few emails, just kind of confirming that the move went okay, updates about the new job.” Alex rubs his neck. “This is going to sound just, like, bizarre, but Michael and I still have that shared account.” He sees Khan’s poker face break. She raises an eyebrow. “I know it’s ridiculous. I mean, we haven’t actually talked to each other for five years. But at least once a month,” or week… “I log in and just sort of see what he’s up to.”

“Okay…” Khan says slowly, drawing the word out. “Let’s talk about substance use…”

***

“You’re meeting criteria for PTSD, Mr. Manes.”

Alex smirks a little. “Huh.”

Khan frowns. “What’s going through your mind, Mr. Manes?”

“Just… my dad, actually. He would think I’m the biggest pussy on earth for going to therapy for this. He’d lecture me about all the guys he knew in the military that had horrible things happen to them and just sucked it up and did what they needed to do.”

Khan’s eyes narrow. “And what do you think, Mr. Manes?”

“I think this is way overdue.”

***

Cognitive Processing Therapy is a 12-session, trauma-focused treatment, Dr. Khan tells him. “It’s intense,” she warns. “You’ll be writing about your most traumatic event, and then we’ll be working to identify and challenge the automatic thoughts related to the trauma.”

“Let’s do it,” says Alex.

***

He buys a new notebook and a new pen. It feels like the first day of school. That makes him think of Michael, off at his fancy grad school, learning fancy things with his fancy brain. Not for the first time, Alex googles Michael’s name. It’s almost surreal, seeing his smiling little picture on the UNM department of Physics and Astronomy webpage. There’s his real name written next to the photo, “Michael Guerin,” for anyone to see, and even an email. It’s like being in a parallel universe, really – and is that the sort of thing an astrophysicist studies? Alex doesn’t know, but he does know that Michael looks different. Still good, but different. He’s filled out, in a way that tells Alex he’s getting regular meals. Skin’s not as dark as it was when he was working the shrimp boats every day. Hair’s shorter, but still wild. He appears well-rested, and he’s wearing a grey t-shirt, stretched tight across his shoulders. The smile is what really catches Alex’s attention, though. He’s seen the smile Michael wears just for him. He’s seen the smile Michael would put on for tourists. This is a whole different beast. This is young-looking, and a little stilted, as if someone has just yelled “Cheese!” and Michael has reluctantly obliged.

He wonders if Michael still has a tan line, low on his hips.

He wonders if he’s slept with any of the 98 other grad students in the department.

He wonders if the gunshot scar on his shoulder has faded.

He wonders if he can still move shit with his mind.

***

“There are four different clusters of PTSD symptoms,” Khan says briskly. “We’ll go over each, and I want you to tell me what your symptoms look like in each of these areas.”

“Okay.”

“The first cluster is reexperiencing. This includes things like unwanted thoughts or dreams about the trauma, flashbacks… does that sound like something you experience?”

“Yeah.” Khan looks at him expectantly and, shit, is he supposed to elaborate? “Um, especially the unwanted thoughts. The nightmares and flashbacks happen sometimes, but not all that often.”

“Alright. Second cluster concerns arousal.” Alex smirks a little at that, but Khan just keeps going, nonplussed. “A lot of people, when reminded of a traumatic event, experience really strong emotions and physical reactions. This can look different for different people – trouble sleeping, being irritable, difficulties with concentration, hypervigilance, an enhanced startle response.”

“I was pretty much hypervigilant for ten years,” Alex says lightly. “Still am, to a certain extent. I mean, the irritability piece fits, too. It kind of went hand in hand with being so on edge all the time.”

“Makes sense. Third cluster is changes in your mood or your thinking as a result of the trauma. A lot of folks have a persistently low mood, and notice that they might blame themselves for what happened. They notice that their thoughts about themselves, other people, and the world change.”

Alex swallows hard. “I mean, yeah, of course I blame myself for what happened. Not just, um, the actual event but so much of what came after, those years on the run.”

“A big part of this treatment is diving into those thoughts, exploring their origins and seeing if they make sense given your present reality. Let’s talk about the fourth cluster – avoidance.” Alex lets out a short, unpleasant little chuckle. “It’s really natural to want to avoid thoughts, emotions, and situations that remind you of the trauma. Some people might avoid watching certain television shows or movies, or avoiding certain activities. Even sights, smells, and sounds get avoided sometimes.” She looks right at him. “Avoidance can also take the form of substance use, risky sex, or overwork.”

Alex exhales slowly. “Oh yeah. This one. Like, that’s me. There’s a lot I avoid. Definitely thinking about what happened with my dad… thinking about the majority of my childhood, really. And I don’t like to talk about it, either. There are definitely some activities I avoid.”

He suddenly thinks of Fort Lauderdale, one of the places he’d landed during that haze of a year, post-Michael. Ryan had been into kink – domination, specifically, and Alex had just kind of… let it happen. He knows more now than he did then, knows that they shouldn’t have been doing shit like that when they were high, knows that they should have been talking in advance, in detail about what would and wouldn’t happen. At the time, though…

“I don’t like people touching my throat, or stuff tight around my neck.”

That was an understatement. As soon as Ryan had started squeezing, he’d reacted like a wild animal – had thrown him the fuck off the bed and locked himself in the bathroom to ride out his full-blown panic attack. Ryan had been concerned, remorseful, but that had been the end of that.

“Like, I’m kind of fucked up.”

Khan holds his gaze. “Let’s continue.”

***

Khan is wearing different glasses today, red ones. Alex wonders, idly, how many pairs she has, and how she chooses which ones she’ll wear, day to day.

“I want you to read your Impact Statement out loud. That’s what we’re going to start with today. Why do you think the trauma happened to you, and how did it impact your views about yourself, other people, and the world?”

Fantastic, he gets to do this straight out of the gate. Thanks, Khan. He wipes his palms, opens his notebook, starts reading.

_The event in the toolshed happened because I was an idiot. A young, stupid idiot who was too horny to make sure that my Dad wouldn’t catch us. If I’d been more careful that day, he wouldn’t have caught us, and we wouldn’t have been on the run for ten years. Michael and I wouldn’t have had to give up our whole futures just to try and stay safe. It happened because I couldn’t keep my dick in my pants. I shouldn’t have been messing around with anyone. It wasn’t safe. I should have known better… _

***

“So, I want to ask you a question, Mr. Manes.”

“Yes?”

“I want you to imagine, for a moment, that you are a father.”

Alex purses his lips. “Poor kids.”

Khan cocks her head a bit, continues. “You’re a father, and you’ve discovered that your teenager is sexually active, perhaps with someone you don’t entirely approve of.” Alex gives her a little look. “What do you think is a reasonable response in a scenario like this?”

“Reasonable response…” Alex repeats. “I dunno.” He thinks for a moment. “I would hope that I could, like, talk to them. Sit down with them and have a conversation.” For a moment, it feels almost real, like something that could happen, rather than some stupid psychological exercise. “Like, I’d want them to know about how to be safe, for themselves and whoever they were with.”

“So…” says Khan slowly. “You wouldn’t choke your child. You wouldn’t try to attack them with a hammer?”

Fuck. Alex glares at her, knows what she’s doing. “_No_.”

“So we can agree… that’s not a reasonable response.”

***

Khan is glancing at his stuck point log, reading over his worksheets. She’s frowning a bit.

“How did the practice assignment go this week?”

Alex shrugged. “It’s getting easier, I guess.” She’d made him write a detailed account of the assault in the shed, a few sessions back. He’d complied, though he’d fudged things a little when it came to Michael knocking his dad out. He didn’t want to get committed, after all. He’d been reading it to himself daily. The first time, he’d been surprised by how strong of a reaction he’d had – so damn guilty, with that old fear flaring up. The more he’d read it, though, and the more he’d talked about it with Khan, the easier it was getting to at least sit with it. “I mean, I don’t like reading about it, but I’m not having the panic attacks anymore.”

“What about the emotions – the guilt, the shame, the fear?”

“I mean, they’re definitely still there, but maybe not as strong.”

“Okay.”

***

“Let’s talk about hindsight bias. Some people call it Monday Morning Quarterbacking.”

Unbidden, Alex thinks of Kyle Valenti. He’d googled him a few months back, out of curiosity, just to find out that he was a fucking surgeon. Still looked damn good, too. Some assholes…

“We can be unfair to our younger selves. We judge our past actions through the lens of the present, and we forget that, when we were originally trying to make decisions, we didn’t have all the information that we have now.”

“Okay,” nods Alex, following along.

“I want to talk about how this pertains to the toolshed. You keep saying that you should have known better than to go to the toolshed, and I want to explore that. Why _did _you go to the toolshed that day? What were your intentions at the time?”

Alex scratches his head. “My intentions at the time? I wanted to fuck Michael.” He shrugs. “Plain and simple. Obviously a mistake.”

“Maybe not obvious,” Khan says. She sits back in her chair. “Let’s talk about the sex, first. Was it consensual?”

Alex laughs, briefly. “Uh, yeah. That’s not, that wasn’t the issue.”

“And you were 17. How old was he?”

“18.”

“In your opinion, is it reasonable for a 17 and 18 year old to want to be sexually active with each other?”

“Um… yes?”

“I’ve noticed, in your log and your impact statement, that you keep saying that you were ‘stupid’ that day, that you were ‘horny,’ and an ‘idiot,’ yet, in your narrative, you’ve said that the two of you used protection, communicated with each other along the way, is that right?”

Alex is frowning. “Yes, that’s right.”

“So…” said Khan slowly, “when it comes to the actual sexual encounter, with Michael, before your father arrived, was there anything problematic about it, from your perspective?”

“No…” Alex says, biting his lip. “I guess not.” It feels weird to say. He’s been demonizing himself for years about that afternoon in the shed, but if his dad had never walked in, it would have probably been a good memory, a fun one, instead of something terrible and regretful.

“Now,” begins Khan, switching gears, “If you had known, that day, that your father was going to walk in on the two of you, try to strangle you, and then the two of you were going to go on the run for ten years, would you have still done it?”

“Is this a fucking trick question? No, of course I wouldn’t have done it.”

“Of course not. You have all the facts now, facts that you didn’t have at the time, that you couldn’t have had. Because if you _did, _you would have made a different decision. So I’m asking, at the time, what _was _the information you had? Why did you make the decision you did to go to the shed?”

Alex is silent for a while before speaking. “I’d been going to the shed for years, whenever things got really bad with my dad. He just kind of… let me be, there. It was like an unspoken agreement, somewhere for me to lick my wounds.” It feels so stupid to say it now, but he’d felt safe there, relatively speaking. “Michael was homeless at the time, and the nights were cold. People always think the desert is hot all the time, but it’s really not and I… I was worried about him. He started staying overnight in the shed, on and off, for a few months, actually.”

“Had your father ever come into the shed unexpectedly, before that day?”

“No, not while I was there, or while Michael was there.”

“Did you have any reason to expect him to come in that day?”

“No,” Alex finally says. “In fact, he should have been at the base. I don’t know why he was there when he was.”

“What alternatives were available to you?”

“Not a lot,” Alex says. “Michael was living out of his truck, and it was still light out. We would have had to drive really far out into the desert to get some privacy, and at the time, I don’t think either of us really wanted to wait to do that, not when my house was so close. I didn’t want us to do anything in a public place, because I knew that my dad would flip the fuck out if someone saw us and told him.”

“So… let’s recap the information you had at the time. You wanted to have sex with Michael – consensual, safe sex with someone you cared about.”

Fuck. Hearing it like that… Alex bites his lip and looks down. He can feel the heat behind his eyes, and he’s trying to keep them from watering.

“There was a location you knew of that had provided you, and Michael, with safety and privacy in the past, so you decided to go there, at a time you were not expecting your father to be present.”

Alex nods, not trusting himself to speak.

“Going only on the information you had at the time, do you think your decision was stupid? Idiotic? Unsafe? Out of control? Unreasonable?”

Alex stops trying not to cry. “No.”

***

“I’m looking over your log here,” Khan holds up a sheet of paper where Alex has collected his thoughts about his dad’s abuse and the attack in the shed, “and I feel like we are still missing something. I think you are getting really good movement with your thoughts related to your father, specifically, but it still seems like the self-directed anger, guilt, and shame are very present and strong.”

Alex shrugs.

“Let’s try to work through the avoidance here, Mr. Manes.”

Alex rolls his eyes. “Fine.”

“We’ve talked, in detail, about your father’s abusive behavior toward you, growing up, and his decision to violently attack you in the shed. We’ve been discussing the specific thoughts you have related to those events, and the emotions that accompany them.” She regards him carefully. “Are there any other situations that come to mind for you that elicit strong emotions of shame or guilt that we haven’t discussed yet?”

Fuck.

Here it is, god _damn _it.

He opens his mouth, closes it. He really, _really_ doesn’t want to talk about this, not with her, not with anyone.

“Mr. Manes?” Khan is staring at him in that intense way of hers, and he suddenly knows he can’t avoid it any more.

“I gave a cop a blowjob,” he announces, curtly.

She’s staring at him, waiting for him to elaborate. He doesn’t want to.

He stares at his jeans, picks at a thread. Tries to pull it off. Pulls harder. Lets go of the thread and slumps back in his chair. He eyes Khan. She gives him a little nod.

“I was only 22,” he finally says. His words are quiet and flat. “Michael and I had pulled the truck over for the night and were sleeping in the bed, just sleeping. We were down in Florida at the time, in the Everglades. Not, like, the actual National Park, but the general area, with all the swamps. It’s a huge area, and really remote in places. Mosquitoes everywhere.” Alex realizes he’s getting off track, refocuses. “Suddenly, this cop car pulls up behind us – lights on, sirens blaring, the whole bit. And I’m freaking the fuck out, because up till now, we’ve stayed off the radar, right? But Michael, he’s like, ‘Just let me handle it.’” Alex looks at Khan. “Michael was always, like, so smooth. Just so good at sweet talking people, getting out of trouble.”

He chokes out a dark little laugh. “Didn’t work this time, though. The cop was being a real hardass. Looking back on it now, I don’t think we really even did anything wrong, but Michael started giving him lip, like an asshole, and next thing I know the cop is cuffing him and hauling him into the cruiser.”

Alex can’t look at Khan, not anymore. “You have to understand, we didn’t have real licenses. Our New Mexico ones were expired, and we were using fakes. Michael had stolen the license plates for the truck. Like, if he brought us in, if he ran the tags, it was game over. We’d probably be going to jail, and my dad would definitely find out where we were.” He swallows thickly. “I was desperate. And I, I saw the way the cop was looking at me.” His mouth twists. “So I made a deal.”

He doesn’t tell her the awful shit the cop had said to him while he was sucking him off, or how Michael’s expression had morphed from confusion to cold fury when he was led back to the truck and saw Alex’s pale face and muddy knees.

He definitely doesn’t tell her how the cruiser had suddenly _rolled_, slowly but surely, onto the cop’s foot, pinning him, screaming, into place on the side of the road as he and Michael had sped away.

***

_I’m a pervert._

_I’m disgusting._

_I’m a piece of shit._

_I’m manipulative._

_I’m fucked in the head._

_I’m an abomination._

_I’m broken._

_I’m weak._

Alex thinks, continues adding to his log.

_I deserve what I got. _

***

“I want to talk some more about the event you disclosed last week,” Khan says.

Of fucking course you do, Alex wants to say. He just nods.

“How do you think that impacted you?”

Alex stretches his neck. “I think that was the beginning of the end, honestly, of everything with Michael. I had promised him, earlier, that I’d never do anything like that, then I did, and it was just…” His brow furrows. “We never talked about it, never even mentioned it. But things weren’t the same after that. Like, sometimes we’d be fine, even good, but it’s like it was always there, in the background.”

Alex is looking out the window again. The scrubby little tree is looking better. Has someone been caring for it? He refocuses.

“I got worse, after that, I know I did.” Khan looks at him questioningly. “I got more paranoid, I guess. Even more committed to lying low, whereas I think Michael wanted to start pushing the envelope a little bit more.” Alex rubs his leg. “But for me, it was like, I’ve already sunk this low, right? If I was willing to do _that_, to try to keep us safe, it would have felt like such a, a waste to risk our safety in any way.” He sighs. “Like it would have been for nothing. I dunno… does that make sense?”

***

“You seem to be taking on all the blame for this incident,” Khan says.

“If the shoe fits,” Alex says, tone clipped. “No one put a damn gun to my head.” This fucking session seems never ending.

“A little later, we can talk more about your role and your motivations, at the time, but first I’d like to talk about the other party involved, the police officer.” Khan pauses, briefly. “I want to propose a hypothetical situation. Let’s say you’re at work, and a customer comes in. You make him a latte, and he suggests that he pay you with oral sex. You accept.”

Alex snorts a bit, rolls his eyes. “I know what you’re doing.”

“Would that be problematic?”

“Yes, obviously.”

“Why?”

“Well… it’s unethical, unprofessional, like outside of a porno.”

Khan nods. “And with a police officer, there is an added power differential that isn’t necessarily there in a coffeeshop.”

Alex is just looking at her disdainfully.

“We could debate for a long, long time about what police officers are supposed to do, versus what they actually do, but I can’t imagine there is any police department in the country that would officially condone an officer accepting sexual favors from someone he pulled over at a traffic stop.” She sees she’s losing Alex, changes direction a bit. “We can never know this for sure, but for many sexual predators, such behavior is habitual. They target people who are vulnerable – such as two young, unaccompanied men, scared and without resources. Thinking back on your experience, thinking back on the police officer’s words and behavior, do you think it’s possible that this wasn’t the only time he acted this way?”

Alex remembers the cop mentioning how much paperwork it would be to bring them in, how serious the charges could be. How if _only _there was another way to work things out…

“It wasn’t his only time,” Alex finally says, voice hard. “But I still shouldn’t have done it.” It was one of the last things Michael had ever said to him, after all – he’d broken his promise.

She considers him for a long moment, leans back in her chair. “What if it had been Michael?”

Alex glares, sharply. “What?”

“Let’s suppose, for a minute, that it was you that got arrested, hauled into the cruiser. Michael left to deal with an unethical, unprofessional – your words – police officer on his own. Suppose that he agreed to exchange sexual favors for your freedom and safety. What would you think of that?”

“Michael wouldn’t do something like that,” Alex says quickly, then thinks. What _would _Michael have done? Sent the fucker flying into the swamp? Would he have risked it?

“Suppose he did,” repeats Khan. “What would be your reaction?”

Alex shakes his head, not even wanting to consider it but begrudgingly going along. “I’d be so pissed,” he finally says. He eyes the psychologist. “I’m pissed right now, at you, for just bringing it up.”

Khan nods. “I want you to play this out with me, okay? You would feel angry, it sounds like. Who would that anger be directed toward?”

“The cop, for being a shitbag, taking advantage of the situation like that. Some anger at Michael, for going along with it.” A pause. “And, and anger at me, that I couldn’t keep him safe. That he felt like that was his only option… fuck…” Alex’s hand is over his mouth, and he’s looking out the window again, but not really seeing.

“Mr. Manes?” Khan’s voice brings him back. “I lost you, for a moment. What’s going through your mind right now?”

“Just… god, a lot.” Alex’s eyes are closed, and he’s trying to breathe evenly. “Things changed with me and Michael, after the cop. I told you already, I got even more vigilant, but Michael just seemed, I dunno, reckless. At the time, I thought he was just doing it to push my buttons, punish me, even, for what I did, but, but thinking about it like this… If it had been him? I’d hate it. I’d hate that he felt pushed into something so desperate. I’d want to make it so that he never felt he had to do something like that again.” God damn it, he was going to cry in front of Khan, again. “_That’s _why he started talking about saving up money, getting better jobs, trying to get legal IDs. That’s why he opened the bank account. Fuck.”

Khan is looking at him gently. “It sounds like you’re seeing his actions in a different way.”

“Yeah,” Alex admits. He takes a few shaky breaths. “God, I wish it had never happened. I wish we never had to go through all of that. We were so young, you know?”

Khan nods. “I wish that as well, Mr. Manes. I wish that you had never been placed in the positions you were. But since you were, and we can’t change that, the only thing we _can _change are your thoughts and reactions to what happened.” There’s pain on her face, but compassion too. “If it had been Michael, would you think that, if he did this, that he was a disgusting pervert?”

It’s a gut punch, hearing his own words applied like this. “No,” Alex says softly. 

“Would you think of him as a piece of shit? A broken, weak abomination?”

“Fuck,” Alex says, voice hoarse with emotion. “No.”

Khan narrows her eyes. “Would you think he deserved what he got?”

“No,” Alex replies, brows knitting together, voice stronger. He raises his head, meets her eyes. “No one deserves that.”

***

Alex stares at the blank page in front of him and rereads the instructions for his final therapy assignment: _Please write at least one page on what you think now about why this traumatic event(s) occurred. _

He breathes in, breathes out. Uncaps his pen. Starts writing.

_This event happened because my father _chose_ to violently attack me… _

***

“We’ve reached the end of the treatment, Mr. Manes.”

Alex leans back in his chair, looks skyward. “Thank god!”

Khan laughs a little, then lets the mood settle. “This is not an easy process, and I commend you for committing to it and sticking with it. I asked you to speak and write, in detail, about some of the most difficult memories of your life, and you did that – thank you.”

Alex nods.

“When you think about the situation with your father, in the toolshed, what are the emotions that come up now? Initially, you had indicated high levels of fear, guilt, shame, and self-directed anger.”

“Oh, there’s still anger,” Alex says. “A lot of anger. But, it’s mostly toward my Dad now, and the cop, not me as much. I’m, I’m not as hard on myself as I was when I started all this. Definitely not as much guilt or shame. There’s still some fear. I mean, my dad’s still out there. But he hasn’t come after me yet, and I can’t let that fear control my whole life, the way it used to.”

He pauses, considers his next words. “There’s also a lot of sadness now. Like, I’m just sad – for me, for Michael. That this happened to us and this was our life for so long. I… I know that we really did love each other, but… between my dad, and the Everglades, and honestly a bunch of other shit, we just didn’t stand a chance. It was so much. And we were so young. And, like, we didn’t have anyone, let alone a, a therapist, or… we had no one. I’m just sad for us.”

“I think it makes sense to feel sad.”

“Yeah.”

***

Alex goes to work.

He goes to yoga three times a week.

He thinks about adopting a dog, but decides against it.

He plays his guitar.

He goes on two dates. They don’t really go anywhere.

He visits a new farmer’s market.

He’s on a break from therapy. He’s scheduled a follow-up with Khan in two months, just to check in. He’s wrung out after the trauma-focused treatment, but he feels lighter. He also feels more in control than he did before. He wants to be in the driver’s seat of his life. Not his dad.

He’s still in mourning, though. Mourning for the childhood he didn’t have, the youth that was spent in hiding. Mourning the loss of Michael.

It’s a process, right? That’s what Khan told him. Alex knows, now, that he is perfectly capable of being on his own and having a good life. His life right now _is _good. He’s content and healthy in a way that he’s probably never been before. He doesn’t _need _someone else in his life.

But he _wants _Michael.

He’s gone a while without looking at the account, but tonight he logs in and reads the latest entry:

8/30/2024: $265 - American Astronomical Society Convention Registration, Washington, D.C.

Good for Michael, going to a convention. He wonders if Michael will be presenting something. Is that what grad students do? He googles, and freezes…

244th Meeting of the American Astronomical Society Joint with AAS Historical Astronomy and High Energy Astrophysics Divisions

13-18 September 2024

Austin Convention Center

500 E Cesar Chavez St.

Austin, TX 78701

The AAS Vice-Presidents urge you to join your colleagues in the Lone Star State and contribute your research to the 244th AAS meeting!

Holy shit. Holy shit holy shit…

Michael was going to be in town, in Austin.

Alex sits with this information for a full day. He turns it over and over in his mind – on his bicycle, at yoga class, at work. If he was to reach out, to Michael, what’s the worst that could happen? Worst case scenario – either no response, or an angry email, and Michael closes up the account so Alex can’t see his activity any more or access the funds. So be it.

A year ago, he wouldn’t have dared to reach out. Now, though, he knows he can handle even that worst case scenario.

Best case scenario… oh god. He swallows hard. Maybe best not to think about that quite yet. Just let each step play out as it comes. That’s all he can control, right?

Alex opens his rarely used email account, pulls up Michael’s little student picture on the UNM website, copies his email address, and begins typing.

_Hi Michael. It’s Alex._


	4. It will be coming around again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex and Michael reunite after five years apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has just up and galloped away with me, like a wild horse. I think it will be five chapters now? Maybe?

**FUTURE (Part 2)**

Alex wipes his palms on his jeans and stares at the brass clock on the wall. It’s one of those modern ones that only has four little lines for the numbers, so it’s a little harder to tell exactly what time it is. He doesn’t need the numbers to know that Michael is at _least _fifteen minutes late, though. Alex looks down at his empty mug. Does he order another, and if so, how long should he wait?

He glances at the door again. Maybe Michael had second thoughts. He wouldn’t blame him, honestly. The way they’d left things had been pretty bad, and Michael has no way of knowing what Alex’s true intentions are for their meeting today.

Alex doesn’t entirely know what his true intentions are.

He does know that he wants to see Michael, badly. Ever since Michael replied, within minutes, to his initial email, he’d been anticipating this reunion. The tone of Michael’s email had been friendly, if a bit guarded. He’d replied from a personal account and had agreed to touch base closer to the conference. Alex had read the email so many times he could probably recite it from memory…

_Hey Alex! It’s good to hear from you! I hear Austin is a cool town…_

As the conference approached, Alex was debating, almost daily, whether to email again or not. In the end, Michael had been the one to reach out.

_I get in the 13th, but there’s a bunch of welcome stuff I have to do. I have some free time on Saturday, the 14th, between 2 and 4. Meet up then? Since you’re the Austin guy, just tell me where and when. _

Alex had deliberated for probably much too long over where to meet. In the end, he’d settled for Houndstooth Coffee, a little local chain with a location near the Convention Center. It was walking distance, so Michael wouldn’t have to worry about transportation.

Alex steals another glance out the large plate glass window at the front of the coffeeshop and suddenly, Michael’s here, bursting in the door larger than life. He’s breathing hard and a little flushed, and hell if it doesn’t make Alex think of other times, other circumstances where he’s seen Michael like that… Michael’s scanning the room, looking nervous, and that nervousness only eases a fraction when he finally spots Alex.

Alex notices everything – the way Michael’s eyes go wide before he drops his gaze, runs a hand through his hair, and closes the distance between them.

“Alex,” he says simply, a polite smile on his face. He’s leaning down toward Alex for… a hug? A back pat? Awkwardly, Alex half stands and leans into the contact.

It’s easy, like this, to forget the last five years have happened. It would be so natural to push his body fully up against Michael’s, to let his hand linger on the strong muscles of his back, to run his fingers up his neck to his curls.

He _can’t. _It’s been five years. Michael could have a boyfriend… a girlfriend? A significant other?

A whole damn life without Alex.

Alex keeps the contact short and suitably awkward, patting Michael briefly on the back before sliding back down to his seat.

Michael looks a little flustered, and Alex hopes it’s because of him.

“Sorry I’m late, man, there was a Q and A session after the last presentation that ran over.”

“No worries,” Alex replies, shaking his head. “You wanna get a coffee or something?”

“Sure,” Michael says.

“I’ll come up too – I finished mine. Might get an herbal tea or something this round.”

“Sounds good.”

There’s an awkward moment where Alex debates where to stand in the line. Five years ago, he would have been next to Michael, making easy conversation, maybe even leaning close to him in an open-minded city like Austin. Now, though… he stands behind Michael and wills his heart rate to get under control.

Damn it, he can _smell _him… that same Michael scent from five years ago. This isn’t helping. It’s like goddamn muscle memory, the way he’s reacting to this. He takes a few deep, Khan-approved breaths that he hopes Michael doesn’t notice.

They get their drinks without incident – Michael has a plain black coffee, and Alex opts for a rooibos blend. They sit down across from each other in the little nook that Alex scoped out – there’s privacy, but they’re also not right on top of each other.

“How’s your coffee?”

Michael takes a little sip. “Ooh, hot.” He laughs a little. “But good.” He leans back in his seat a little. “Yours?”

“It’s good.” They both nod a bit. Alex clears his throat. “So, how have you been?”

Michael puts on a bright little face, and it makes Alex’s stomach drop. He’s seen him do this hundreds of times with tourists at Fishhooks, be the happy, no-worries guy. It’s not the _real _Michael. “I’m good! Going to school now, grad school, though I guess you know that much. I’ve got an apartment in Albuquerque pretty close to campus. Yeah, things are going pretty well. No complaints.” The brightness slips a bit as Michael looks at Alex. Something, concern maybe, takes its place. “How are you, Alex?”

Alex exhales, and begins. “I’m good, Michael. Right now I really am. I’m… I’m in a good place right now.”

Michael looks at him in an intense way, seems to approve. He visibly relaxes. “That’s good. You, you didn’t say much in your email, and you’re a hard guy to find online.”

Alex chuckles darkly. “Yeah, well, you know me.” Michael looks down at his coffee. Christ, this is hard. “I work at Starbucks now,” Alex volunteers. “I’m a manager there.”

Michael perks up a bit at that. “Yeah? Good for you!” He leans forward conspiratorially. “Are you even allowed to be in here?”

Alex allows himself a smile. “Yeah, doesn’t hurt to check out the competition sometimes. And I didn’t exactly want all my coworkers watching me…” Watching him what? This isn’t a date. What to even call it? “Watching me catch up with you.” Michael’s face looks carefully neutral. “Besides, Houndstooth has some of the best coffee in town.”

“It’s really good,” Michael says, taking an enthusiastic sip. “When’d you get into coffee?”

Alex shrugs. “A few years back – four years I guess? I started out as a barista and worked my way up.”

“That’s cool,” Michael says. “You’ll have to tell me where your location is in case I ever want to stop by. I could tell people at the conference, too.”

Alex smiles politely. “Sure.” He takes a sip of his tea. “How about you? How did you get into astrophysics?”

And there’s Michael’s fake face again. “Well, I always sort of liked looking up at the stars – “

“I remember,” Alex says seriously, and he does. Michael stills and looks at him. Of _course _Alex remembers. How many nights, out in the truck, would he wake up tangled in Michael’s warm body just to see him staring up at the sky. _Of course I remember, _Alex wants to say. _Ten years, we had… ten years together. Of course, Michael, of course... _

Michael is still staring at Alex. He swallows thickly. “About a year after… after I last saw you, I enrolled at UNM. My brain, it just seems to understand astrophysics, and I love it. Did the undergrad degree in two and a half years, then I’ve been doing the grad school thing ever since.”

Alex looks right at him, holds his gaze. “I’m happy for you.” He looks down. “You were always so, so brilliant. I’m glad you get to use it this way.”

“Thanks,” Michael says quietly.

It goes like that for another half hour – pleasant, polite conversation about nothing of importance…

“Yeah, it gets hot sometimes in Albuquerque.”

“I’ve burned myself a few times at work, but nothing too bad.”

“The freshman just look so _young._”

“I’ve biked around Austin a decent amount.”

If the Manes family had reunions, Alex imagines that this is how conversation would have gone with a second or third cousin. _Not _with Michael. Not with a man he’s shared a decade’s worth of nights with, not with someone whose taste he knows intimately, someone whose hands have been on him, inside him, countless times…

Michael’s suddenly making a show of looking at the clock on the wall. “I should probably get going pretty soon. I have to be back for a panel discussion.”

“Sure, sure,” Alex says automatically. And then, abruptly, he knows that this is a crucial moment in his life. He could wish Michael well, give him another awkward back pat, and never see him again.

Or…

He could communicate. He could be honest. He could tell the truth.

“I missed you, Michael.” He hears how his voice breaks. He makes himself look Michael in the eye, despite the sudden teary sensation he feels. “I missed you so, so much.”

Michael’s frozen, and he’s just staring. He looks almost… scared, Alex thinks. His jaw tightens. “I missed you too,” he finally says, so softly. The eye contact is almost too much, at this point, but Michael doesn’t look away. “Not… not a day went by these five years that I didn’t.”

Alex drops his head, then, presses his hands to his face. God, this man, this fucking _thing _between them…

Michael is suddenly there, next to him, surrounding him. Alex feels the weight of his arm suddenly draped around his shoulders, pulling him in close. “Missed you so damn much,” Michael murmurs.

Alex reaches for his knee and grasps it with his hand. He’s hyperaware that they’re in a public coffeeshop, and the thought of it makes him grip Michael’s knee even harder, willing himself not to just break down. They stay there, like that, for a long moment until Michael speaks. “I really do have to go to that panel,” he says, reluctantly. “But, but I want to see you again. Dinner tonight? I know it’s last minute, but – “

“Yes.”

***

Dinner is better.

They meet at a food truck park. Alex smiles as he watches Michael take in the scene. “This is awesome!” he marvels, looking at the different food trucks and the outdoor seating strung with lights. They start with street tacos, and it’s so much more relaxed than the coffee shop.

“I was really surprised when I got that email from you,” Michael says between bites. “I never thought I’d hear from you again. I mean, I _hoped _I would, but it didn’t seem likely. What made you reach out?”

Alex shrugs. “The account.” Michael raises his eyebrows. “Which we’re really going to have to talk about more at some point. But yeah, every once in a while I log in, and I saw that you were going to this conference, and that it was going to be in Austin, and I just knew I couldn’t let an opportunity like that pass without trying to get in touch with you, at least.”

Michael’s quiet, just absorbing the information. Alex tilts his head, looks at him and asks a question he’s wondered about for a while. “How did everything go for you in New Mexico with your family? Max and Isobel?”

Michael stops, mid-bite, and looks up at him sharply. “Didn’t realize you remembered their names.”

“When your boyfriend of ten years leaves you to go meet up with his long-lost brother and sister, certain details tend to stick with you.” Michael snorts a little and looks away. “Sorry,” Alex says quickly, “but that’s how it felt, at the time. After the initial anger – and there was a lot of that – I just hoped they were good people, you know? That you’d be able to have a relationship with them.” He looks down. “That if, if we were apart, you’d have someone that cared about you.”

Michael’s looking at him with a much warmer expression now. “They’re… they’re really good people. I’m so lucky to have them. Never thought I would, you know. It’s still like a goddamn miracle.” He’s fiddling with his napkin. “Is, especially… she really took care of me. I lived with her in Taos the first year I was out there.” Michael’s quiet, seems to be debating something. “I was an absolute shitshow,” he admits. “And she… she was so patient with me. But, like, tough too. She made me go see someone, straighten my shit out.” Michael shakes his head. “I was a mess, such a mess. Like, if I’d been her, some of the stunts I pulled those first six months? I would have kicked me out.” He shrugs. “I owe her a lot, that’s for sure.”

Alex is just listening, wide-eyed. On the one hand, he cares about Michael and it’s hard to hear that he struggled, but on the other hand… dear god, he wasn’t alone. He wasn’t the only one that had a hard time when things ended between them. He’d felt so isolated, and at the time it had been so easy to imagine Michael just loving his new life… it felt good to hear Michael disclose what it had actually been like for him.

“My brother, though?” Michael grins and leans way back in his chair. “Hoooo boy. I love him, don’t get me wrong, but he’s a real piece of work. Like, my total opposite. Good guy, but oh my god, such a stick up his ass.”

“Yeah?” Alex prompts.

Michael’s animated now. “Oh yeah. So, get this. He’s a high school English teacher. He’s good at it, too – he’s won awards and stuff. But his _true _passion is, like, super serious, depressing Russian literature. And he’s forever saying that he’s gonna write his own tragic masterpiece, right?”

“Okay.”

“But,” Michael leans in, a mischievous smirk on his face, “on the side, what he _actually_ does is write these, like, erotic thrillers.”

Alex laughs. “What?”

“Oh yeah, man. He self-publishes them on Amazon – has a decent following, too. And the kicker is, in real life, he’s _such _a prude. Like, _so _straight-laced. And then these books, my god…” Michael grins. “I love it. It’s the best thing he could have possibly ever done for me. I can give him shit about it forever and ever.”

“My god,” Alex says, shaking his head. “You know I’m going to have to read one now. Like, you can’t just dangle that without giving me a title.”

“You got a smartphone?” Alex nods. “Wow, really?” Alex just looks at Michael. “That’s… that’s a big step, man.” Michael seems… proud. “Here, unlock it and pull up Amazon. I’ll show you.” Alex hands his phone over and lets Michael take control. “There we go,” he says after a moment.

Alex looks at the screen. “Desert at Dusk, by Eric Zan,” he reads.

“That’s Max’s pseudonym. Do yourself a favor and read the summary,” Michael says, a smile playing at his lips.

Alex clears his throat. “Caleb Cole is back in another steamy Southwestern adventure. When a series of mysterious disappearances hits a small town, it’s up to Cole to track down the culprit. But when clues point to a former flame, Cole finds himself questioning everything.” Alex gives a little laugh. “$2.99 for the Kindle version?” He hits the screen. “Done. Bought. I’ll give you my review later this week.”

“I think this is the one where they have sex in the Laundromat.” Alex raises an eyebrow, and Michael’s suddenly bashful. “Uh, yeah, he might have gotten that idea from me.”

“Savannah?”

Alex can see the blush on Michael’s cheeks, even in the low light. “Shit, man, yeah.” Michael’s running his hand through his hair, at the back of his neck. “My god, we had some wild times.”

Alex swallows hard. “Yeah.” He takes a long, slow sip of water. He’s aware of Michael’s eyes on him, watching him. “Michael…” he says, carefully.

Michael gives him a small, lopsided smile. “Alex…” he says slowly, drawing it out.

Alex is studying Michael now, taking him in. He was with Michael for ten years. He knows this look, knows what it means…

It would be so simple to head to his apartment and fuck each other silly. God, just thinking about it practically gets him half-hard. He forces himself to take another sip of water and address Michael.

“If you were anyone else right now,” Alex starts, “I’d be inviting you back to my place.”

Michael takes a deep breath. It’s clear he’s listening closely.

“But with you…” Alex shakes his head. “Michael, there were reasons why we blew up the way we did, five years ago.” Michael’s eyes narrow, but he remains silent. “And, and hearing you now, just the little bit that we’ve hung out, I, I think you’ve worked on some of your stuff.” Alex bites his lip. “And I, I’ve really been working on my stuff, Michael. I mean, I know I’m a work in progress, but I’ve been trying. Really hard.” He forces himself to keep looking at Michael. “I saw a therapist, just recently. Talked about… everything, almost. My dad, the way I grew up, the shed, the cop, us...” Michael’s eyes are wide, startled. “And, and I’m thinking differently about things now, and trying to live differently.” Alex takes a deep breath. “And part of that is, is doing really hard shit like this.” He swallows. “I think it’s pretty obvious that I really want you, still. Like, not just as a hookup.” He bites his lip. “With you, I don’t think I could ever _not _be serious.”

He chances a glimpse at Michael, who gives him a little nod to continue.

“But… but I need the truth.” Michael breaks eye contact, shakes his head a little bit. Alex bobs a little to catch his eyes again. “Hey, Michael – whatever secret you’re keeping, I know it must be very important to you. And if you need to keep it, that’s up to you. I would still want to, to be a friend to you.” Michael scoffs. “Like, occasional email, meet up for coffee if you’re in town. That sort of thing.”

Alex’s brow furrows. “But, Michael, if you wanted more… the way I know that _I _want more… I need the truth. Nothing else can happen before that.” Michael’s staring at him, intensely, and Alex suddenly feels self-conscious. “I mean, I don’t want to, like, presume, and I also don’t want to put you on the spot. So, please, think about it? Like, enjoy your conference, but when you get back to Albuquerque, please think on it? And, and let me –“

“Alex, stop.”

Alex shuts his mouth and looks warily at Michael.

“I’ll tell you everything.”

“Shit, Michael,” Alex huffs, “come on. I’m serious. Take some time and really _think _about this.”

Michael glares at him, leans in close. “You think I haven’t thought about this?” he hisses. “Five fucking years I’ve thought about this. Longer, even. I wish I would have told you that day in the shed.”

“What?” Alex gasps, floored. 

“Yeah,” Michael says, looking at his feet. “I swore that if I ever got a chance with you again, I’d take it.”

“Then what, what was the deal earlier, in the coffee shop?”

Michael shakes his head. “I think you probably have some… idea of what I’m going to tell you.” Alex nods slightly. “Yeah, well, then you can probably guess why I wanted to be sure of your, um, motivations before spilling my guts.” Michael leans back in his chair. “But… but I trust you, Alex. Maybe after five years I shouldn’t, but I do. So yeah, whatever you want to know.” He looks around. “But not here.”

***

“So, this is my place,” Alex says, withdrawing the key and letting the door open wide.

“It’s nice,” Michael says with a little smile.

It’s a little efficiency in the heart of Austin. Alex has a bed, a bicycle, a yoga mat, some pots and pans, some clothes – mostly the ones he wears to work. Everything fit easily in the truck.

It also has a homemade security system, complete with camera, that Alex immediately disables while Michael watches. Some habits die hard.

“It works for me,” Alex shrugs.

“Looks a lot like mine in Albuquerque, actually,” Michael says, taking a seat on a little camping chair. “Isobel’s forever ranting at me to grow up and get some real furniture, but… guess I’m just used to living light, you know?”

“I do know.” They exchange a bittersweet little smile. “Can I get you anything to drink?” Alex asks. “I’ve got water, tea, coffee… kombucha?”

Michael snorts a bit. “Got anything stronger?”

“Espresso?” Michael cocks his head a bit, studies him. “Um, yeah, so… I don’t really drink anymore.”

Michael’s lips quirk up a bit into an almost-smile. “Huh…” He clears his throat. “I’ll try a kombucha. Is has been trying to get me to try it forever. Goes on about the probiotics.” He smiles. “She’ll be all ticked that I tried it for you but not for her.” Alex pours some in a glass and hands it to him.

Michael takes a sip, and begins to cough. “Oh holy _fuck_, what the hell is this?” He makes an awful face and Alex begins laughing in earnest. “That’s nasty! My god, it tastes like vinegar!” Alex takes the glass away, still smiling. “You seriously drink that for fun?” Alex shrugs. “You’re into some nasty shit, Manes.”

“You would know,” Alex retorts, automatically, without thinking. Michael’s eyes are wide, and Alex is suddenly self-conscious. He clears his throat. “Well, now you can tell Isobel it’s not your thing. What can I get you instead?”

Michael seems to really contemplate the question. “If we are about to have the discussion I think we’re gonna have, you better give me your strongest stuff.”

“Espresso it is.” Alex gets out his little Moka pot. “I’ll have some, too.”

Michael nods, seems pleased. “I have high expectations, you know. You’re a professional.”

Alex laughs lightly. “You won’t be disappointed.”

Michael shakes his head, looks right at Alex. “No, I’m sure I won’t.”

Alex can feel his own blush working its way to the surface and he quickly ducks his head, paying attention to the task at hand. Within minutes, he’s handing Michael an espresso.

“Oh god,” Michael groans, and if _that _doesn’t do things to Alex… “This is the best espresso I’ve ever had. Consider yourself fully redeemed for that whole kombucha thing.”

“Glad you like it,” Alex chuckles. There’s a companionable silence as they sip their espresso. It’s Michael that finally speaks up.

“So… I feel like we have a lot to talk about.”

Alex nods. “Five years’ worth.”

Michael shakes his head. “No. Longer, really. And I’ll start, and… I’ll start with the biggest thing. The thing I should have told you from the start.”

Alex sets down his espresso cup, and Michael does the same.

Michael opens his mouth as if to speak, then closes it. “Do… do you mind if I ask you something first?”

“Um, sure.”

Michael leans forward a bit. “Our fight, five years ago. The last one. You… you pretty much connected the dots. And you’ve had five more years to think about it. So… I figure you must have a theory.” He must see Alex’s expression hardening, and he’s quick to jump in. “I mean, I’m still going to tell you the truth.”

“Okay…” Alex says slowly. “If you are what I _think _you are,” he shakes his head. “God, it’s either like, _too _obvious or completely insane. But…” he takes a steadying breath. “Here’s what I know. You were found wandering the desert outside Roswell, naked, around the age of 7, with two other kids. You couldn’t talk. You’re ridiculously smart. You can somehow move objects without touching them. And now…” He shakes his head, gives a small, dark little laugh. “Now, you are a freaking graduate student in astrophysics.” He purses his lips. “I mean, Michael… come on… are you a… are you an alien?”

Michael smiles, small and nervous. “Guessed it in one.”

***

They’re lying on top of Alex’s bed, fully clothed, pressed against each other. They’ve been talking for hours. Alex now knows about the pods, about Max and Isobel’s alien status. There’s an unspoken agreement that everything is on the table tonight. It’s a time to clear the air and hopefully gain clarity about the future. Alex’s free hand, the one that isn’t wrapped around Michael’s body, is rubbing his scalp through his thick curls.

“Used to dream about this,” Michael says softly. Alex’s hand stills for a moment, but continues when Michael resumes speaking. “Especially back in Taos, Izzy’s guest room… I’d wake up feeling for you. It’d take me a while, sometimes, to orient myself, remember you weren’t there. Didn’t know if I’d ever get this again.” Alex presses his face to the bare skin at the back of Michael’s neck. “Those first few months, I’d go home with people just so I wouldn’t have to wake up alone. That’s fucked up, huh?” Alex holds him tighter. Michael grasps Alex’s hand and holds it to his chest. “Max… he thought you were gonna blackmail me. Thought that’s why you finally reached out.” Alex inhales, a little too sharply. “He… he doesn’t get it though. He’s never loved someone, not like this. Is, though… she knew. She saw what I was like when I moved out there. She knew I had to see you.”

“And you?” Alex asks, his voice small. “What did you think?”

Michael tightens his grip on Alex’s hand. “I didn’t even know you were alive before that email. I looked for you, but you… you know how to stay hidden. I’d made my peace with it years ago.” Michael shakes his head a little. “Well, maybe not peace, but I’d accepted it.” Michael is quiet for a moment. “You didn’t see yourself, when you found out. I’d… I’d never seen you so angry. Thought you were scared of me.”

“Scared? Oh Michael…” Alex nestles against him. “I wasn’t scared of you. I was angry, yeah… That fight, there were just so many lies that came out, including this huge one…” Alex swallows, hard. “I never thought you’d leave,” he whispers, cursing the waver in his voice.

“I’m sorry,” says Michael, and it sounds so wrecked. “It was… god it was just such bad timing. I’d _just _found Max and Is, right? We’re literally about to drive to New Mexico when this comes out, the one thing I never wanted you to know, and I just… I had to find out more about them, and myself, you know? And I couldn’t just, like, out them as aliens, not when they’d never told anyone.” He can hear that Michael’s halfway to tears, too. “I loved you, Alex, more than anything, but when it came down to it, I… I left because I needed to find out more. And I did. But I’m still sorry.”

Alex tightens his embrace, feels Michael’s body shaking. “I just…” Michael shakes his head a bit, chokes back tears. “Why didn’t you come after me?”

“What?”

His voice is small when he finally speaks. “Thought you would, thought for sure you would. You… you had the address. We were going to go there together. I left you money, the truck. I, I thought you just needed time.” Michael lets go of Alex’s hand and wipes at his eyes. “After two weeks, I called Ronnie, tried to get another message to you. He told me you were long gone.” Michael sniffs. “You were off the map, man. No phone, nothing.” Michael’s fully crying now. “I… I didn’t even have a fucking picture of you. Not one, after ten years together. I… I went on Facebook, to the Fishhooks page and just started, like, obsessively scrolling, trying to find you in the background of some tourist selfie, and I finally did, and it was so blurry, but I didn’t care, and...” Michael finally breathes. “God damn, it was just so bad.”

Alex stays quiet, not quite sure what to say. “And then… when I finally got it through my thick head that you really weren’t coming, I thought maybe you’d be better off without me. We were both so miserable that summer, remember? Thought maybe without my ass around you could be happier.”

Alex makes a pained little sound. “Oh Michael. _That’s _why I didn’t follow you.”

“What?”

“I thought… I thought it would be better that way. That without me, you could finally be happier. Like, live a little more openly, do what you wanted to do. And, and you did.”

Michael scoffs a bit. “Took me a long fucking time. You didn’t see me, man, you didn’t see me those first few months.” Michael suddenly rolls over, faces Alex. “I fucked my way through Taos.” Alex flinches a little. “Yeah.”

“Michael, you don’t have to – “

“No, I really do. If we are going to really do this, you need to know everything. Us _not _talking is the reason all the shit hit the fan five years ago.”

Alex nods. It’s true.

“You know what finally happened?” Alex doesn’t really want to know, but he’s aware that Michael needs to tell him, so he just listens. “I had a threesome, with one of Izzy’s couple friends.” Michael shrugs a little. “Whatever, we’re all adults, right? They were certainly down for it. So was I.” He looks away. “But then, uh, then the wife and I… we just kept meeting up. Like, behind her husband’s back.” He shakes his head a bit. “She was one of Izzy’s best friends. And when the husband found out…” Michael goes quiet. “They ended up getting a divorce, and Is was so mad at me. Really like, sat me down, talked to me about how my actions were starting to hurt people, and that wasn’t okay. Asked me what I wanted to do with my life, got me some therapy.” He shrugs. “That was kind of the low point, but also the turnaround I guess.”

“For me,” Alex says quietly, “it was Miami. I was getting really messed up back then. Drinking, pills. I never shot up, thank god, but it was bad. I was just trying to numb out, I think, fuck the pain away.”

“Peaches…” Michael murmurs.

Alex snorts a little. “Yeah. And I won’t lie, sometimes it was fine, good even. Made me feel desirable again, wanted.”

Michael scoffs. “Fuck, look at you. How could you ever doubt that?”

Alex fixes him with a serious look. “You know how.”

Michael shuts his mouth, looks down, a little ashamed. “Yeah, I do.”

“Anyway,” Alex continues. “I woke up super messed up one morning and couldn’t even remember sleeping with the guy I was with, and that’s when I logged into the account for the first time. I saw that you’d gone back to school and, Michael, it gave me hope. Hope that maybe I could do something different with my life, too. And I did.”

Michael looks at Alex with a tenderness he hasn’t seen in a while. Alex wants to kiss him, wants to press into him and let go… But he knows once they do that, they won’t want to stop, and there are still so many questions.

Alex clears his throat, breaks the moment. “I, I want to hear the real story about what you’re doing, with the astrophysics. Not that bullshit you were spewing in the coffeeshop earlier.”

“Wasn’t bullshit,” Michael says quietly.

Alex softens. “Sorry. I know. I… I know you’ve always liked looking up at the stars. It makes even more sense now. But, um, knowing you’re an alien? And a genius?” He cocks his head a bit. “What are you really doing?”

Michael fixes him with a long look. “Back in high school, summer before senior year, I was living in my truck and we had that really bad heat wave. You remember that?”

“Oh god, yeah,” Alex said. “I had to take out my septum ring cause it got too hot – almost burned my nose.”

“Christ,” Michael scoffed. “Anyway, I, uh, snuck into the UFO Emporium one night to sleep. Figured it had air conditioning. That’s the only time I was ever there before… well, you know.”

Alex gives a small smile. “Yeah.”

“So I disable all the cameras and I just start, like, looking around. And some of it’s so damn cheesy, you know. And other parts are kind of unsettling, like the autopsy shit, but I get to this one display case and there’s this big piece of glass.”

“I know the one you mean, kind of curved?”

“Yeah. And I don’t know how to describe it, but it’s like… _calling _to me. So I take apart the display case, with my powers, so there are no fingerprints – what?”

Alex is chuckling. “Sorry, just… ‘with my powers.’ Like, it’s crazy, man. Crazy what you can do, crazy that we can talk about it.”

Michael huffs a bit. “Yeah, well… I finally get my hands on the glass, and it lights up. And I’m like, fuck, this is legit. And that’s when I started planning. I’d go to UNM, and I’d come back, get my hands on the glass, and start running some tests on it.” He looks at Alex, a steady gaze. “Obviously, you know what happened.” He shakes his head. “Your fucking dad.” He’s still looking at Alex. “You have to know,” he started slowly, “that I don’t regret it. I don’t regret… loving you. I don’t.”

He exhales deeply. “I just wish I’d blasted him the fuck out of the shed as soon as he opened the door. Before he even touched you. Like, what the fuck was I thinking? I’d, I’d seen your bruises. The whole damn school had.” He runs his hand through his hair. “The shit you think is normal when you’re 18… like, looking back on it, it was so, so fucked. If I’d have told you about me then, right then… I wouldn’t have had to lie about the gambling. Hell, you could have helped me, had my back. Maybe I wouldn’t have gotten jumped on the riverboat.” His face grows even darker. “You… you would have known I could have gotten us out of trouble. With, with the cop.” Michael bites his lip. “Would have made more sense why I needed to meet up with Max and Is. I’m so sorry, Alex. For all of it.”

Alex holds him, lets him shake against him in his arms. “Wasn’t your fault. Wasn’t my fault, either. We were so young,” he murmurs. “We were _too_ young. And Michael…” he says, gripping him tighter. “You saved me. You saved my life. I mean, I always thought you did, but once I found out about, about your powers, I realized you _really _did. He was going to kill me that night. He came so damn close. I’d be dead if not for you. You risked everything for me.”

Alex, for the first time in five years, places a gentle kiss on Michael’s temple. “So thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

***

“So… was there anyone serious?”

Alex looks at him sharply over his warm mug. They’d fallen asleep, all cried out, clinging to each other on top of the sheets. Alex had woken up first, extracting himself carefully and putting fresh coffee on. He had the whole day off, and he was planning to spend it with Michael.

“Yeah,” he says finally, studying Michael. “Before I came to Austin, I was in Knoxville. There was a guy there, Ben.”

“You love him?”

Alex looks skyward, sighs. “That’s hard, Michael. I… I cared about him. I really did. He helped me a lot. It’s just…” He sighs. “He wasn’t you. No one was.”

Michael nods. He doesn’t seem pleased, but he’s not upset either.

“How about you?” Alex asks carefully, sipping his coffee. “Anyone serious?”

“I lived with a woman in Albuquerque for almost two years. Elena.” He takes a bite of toast, chews it slowly. “Eventually, she wanted more. Things I couldn’t give her. Family, kids. Um, more of me, I guess.” Michael ducks his head. “Like you said, she wasn’t you.”

They’re quiet for a while, drinking their coffee, eating their toast.

“You’ve changed,” Michael says softly. “The job, a real phone… You’re not as closed off. I like it.”

Alex gives a small smile. “I like it too. It was a long time coming, but I’m glad this is where I am, now.” He looks at Michael. “I’m not as scared anymore. I know that was one of the reasons things didn’t work between us, before. I mean, I’m never gonna have, like, a Facebook and an Instagram, but I’m living my life, you know?”

“I’m proud of you, Alex.”

He’s so earnest and open in that moment, and no one’s… no one’s ever said that before. Not in a serious way, not to Alex. It’s overwhelming, and unexpectedly affecting. Alex blinks away tears. “Thank you,” he manages, looking down quickly at his mug. “Want more coffee?”

“I could have more,” Michael says. “Especially if you’re making it.”

Alex smiles a little, tries to hide it. “Coming right up.” As he’s pouring the cups, he tries to sound casual. “So… we fell asleep last night before you could tell me more about the alien glass, from the museum.”

“Oh yeah,” Michael says. “Yeah… I really like grad school. I’m learning a lot of things I didn’t realize I even wanted to know, but the best part is the access. Like, a standard lab or a homemade one just doesn’t have the budget for some of the technology they have at UNM, given all the grants and stuff. Obviously, this stays within these walls, but I’ve been able to use the lab for some… personal research.”

Alex hands Michael his coffee. “Yeah? Like what?”

Michael takes a sip, gives Alex a _very _satisfied face. “Well… don’t freak out, but I went back to Roswell.”

Alex almost drops his coffee. “Shit, Michael!” He sets down his cup on the counter. “Did you _really_?”

“Relax, I took Max with me. He was the public face of the whole operation – said he was researching his next novel, which wasn’t actually a lie, it turned out. I stayed in the car the whole time, with my cowboy hat on.” Michael says, a little smirk on his face. “You know, I’m an actual alien, who’s gone undetected for almost 30 years. Like, I was a little paranoid before I even met your ass.”

Alex rolls his eyes, then looks at Michael. “Still… you went back. What was it like?”

Michael scratches at his neck. “Weird, man. It’s not like I have very pleasant memories of Roswell. But it was still oddly good to see certain places, show Max around a little.” He brightens. “Which, oh my god, _that’s _a story.”

Alex looks at him questioningly. “You’ll appreciate this,” Michael says, one of his shit-eating grins firmly in place. “Guess who my brother,” he pauses dramatically, flutters his eyelashes, “_connected _with?”

“Who?”

“Liz Ortecho.”

“What?!” Alex’s jaw drops. Liz, along with Maria, had been one of his best friends. He’d felt bad leaving them without a trace, and wondered what they thought happened to him.

What lies his father told.

“What was she doing in Roswell?” he asks, concerned. Liz had been almost as eager to leave as he had been.

“Her sister apparently just had a baby. Liz is a scientist now, biomed focus, I think, up in Denver. She was in for the week to meet the baby and help out at the Crashdown.”

“Wow, good for her,” Alex says, shaking his head. “Wait, so Max and Liz…?”

“Max was in there getting takeout. The, uh…” Michael’s eyes flick up to Alex. “The enchiladas. Someone, um, told me they were really good. And they were.”

Alex smiles at him softly. “I’m really glad you got to try them.”

Michael looks almost bashful. “Yeah… Anyway, Max comes out just, like, raving about this ‘fascinating woman’ he met.” Michael grins. “Ended up asking her out for coffee that afternoon at Bean Me Up. For ‘research,’ you know. I think he even reached out on Linked In. And then a few months later, I’m reading his fucking draft and who’s the love interest? A gorgeous, brilliant Latina scientist who’s helping out with her family’s small business on the side.”

“Oh shit,” Alex laughs. “Subtle.”

“Max was so flustered when I called him on it. That book’s called _Saguaro Sunrise_.”

Alex laughs. “Does he think up these titles up himself? That sounds like a cocktail.”

“Yeah, it does!” Michael looks thoughtful. “Let’s see, putting on the old bartender hat… I’m thinking some mezcal, grapefruit, lime, a little prickly pear to amp up those desert vibes. Charge $14 bucks a pop and watch the housewives come running.” Alex nods along, smiles. Michael’s brow suddenly furrows. “Sorry, man, I didn’t mean to – “

“It’s no problem, Michael,” Alex says with a grin. “I’ll make up a non-alcoholic version.” He smirks a little. “A ‘refresher,’ if you will.” Alex licks his lips a bit. “Sparkling water, aloe juice,” Michael gives an impressed little face, “and then I’ll keep your prickly pear and grapefruit. We’ll only charge $6 for this one.”

“Say everything’s fresh-squeezed and organic, and you could definitely charge $9.”

“You sure we shouldn’t mix in a little kombucha, too?”

Michael makes a disgusted face, “Oh god, see? You’ve gone and ruined it.” He shakes his head. “Animal.”

There’s an easy camaraderie here. Alex lets himself bask in it as he takes another sip of coffee.

Michael looks at him approvingly, then resumes his story. “Anyway, back to the glass. I did end up breaking into the UFO Emporium, during the night. Max was scandalized, and I was like, dude, this was the whole point of coming, remember?” He stares at Alex. “Thought of you the whole time, in the museum.” Alex reddens, looks down. “When I got the glass in the lab, oh my god. Confirmed it. Definitely isn’t from earth. It’s made up of some elements that aren’t even on the periodic table. Like, the significance of the discovery I’m sitting on, not just for me and Max and Is, but for, like, Earth in general? It’s huge.” He shakes his head a little. “No one knows yet, except you, and my brother and sister. I’m trying to figure out how to play it. Like, would it attract too much attention if I make it public? Should I just give someone else the discovery? And then there’s the whole matter of what it is. My theory, it’s part of our ship that crashed.” Michael’s talking a mile a minute, and Alex, achingly, knows he still loves him. Loves seeing him like this, lit up from the inside, speaking passionately. He wants him, so much.

“And so now, I’m working on inventing some sort of device that can detect the new element, right? Like a Geiger counter does for radiation. That way I could, like, scan an area and see if there could be alien artifacts there.”

“Wow,” Alex says. “That’s incredible.”

Michael’s bobbing his head in agreement. “It really is. It’s so nice to be able to have the resources to really do things right, run the tests I want. It’s been taking up a lot of my time, though. Izzy’s always telling me to relax, live a little – which is quite the turnaround from when I was living with her, yikes.” He looks at Alex. “She really was happy I was gonna meet up with you out here. She remembers you from Fishhooks. She liked you. Um, she knows _I _like you.”

Alex smiles. “I like you too, Michael. It, it’s been really good to see you again. And especially to hear how you’ve been doing, and hear the truth.”

Michael takes a few breaths. “The, um, the alien thing…” He looks down, suddenly vulnerable. “I know that’s a lot. None of us have ever told anyone before. And I’d understand if it’s too much.” His eyes flick up to Alex, briefly, before settling back on his own feet. “And I know it’s been less than 24 hours. But I guess what I’m wondering is, would that be a deal-breaker, for you?”

“Deal-breaker?” Alex repeats, eyes begging Michael for clarification.

“Um, yeah. Like, deal-breaker for, for _us_?”

Alex stares at him, takes him in, the man he’s loved since he was 17. He sets his coffee cup down and walks toward him, into his space, gauging Michael’s reactions. Michael’s breathing gets more ragged. There’s a wariness in his eyes, but hope, too. Alex licks his lips, an unconscious tick, and Michael does the same. Slowly, not wanting to spook him, Alex puts a hand on Michael’s forearm. Michael hisses, and his eyes flick down to the point of contact, watching as Alex slides his hand up, up past his elbow and bicep, across his strong shoulder to the warmth of his neck. Alex can feel the way the pulse strengthens beneath his fingers. Michael’s eyes are hooded, and he’s staring at Alex with an expression Alex remembers from their decade together.

Want. Lust. Desire.

All at once, Michael’s hands circle to the small of Alex’s back, as he’s pulled in for a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and for all of your kind feedback and encouragement!


	5. (Coming around again)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex and Michael explore what it means to share a lifetime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter. Please enjoy.
> 
> There are brief mentions of a medical condition and past child abuse.

**FUTURE (Part 3)**

He’s 17 in the toolshed.

He’s 18 in the Ouachita National Forest.

He’s 34 in his apartment in Austin.

He’s 66 in a hotel in Sweden.

***

It’s their first time in Sweden. Alex is wearing nothing but one of the big white hotel robes, and Michael is staring up at him from between his thighs.

“What do you want, Alex? I’ll do anything you want,” he’s murmuring, dipping his hand under the robe and running it along Alex’s thigh.

Alex exhales slowly and sinks back into the pillows. “God, Michael, it all sounds good.”

Michael’s hand wanders higher. “Gotta talk to me, Alex… tell me what you want,” he says, his fingertips agonizingly close.

Slow, deep breaths. “How about,” Alex begins, “you use your mouth.”

Michael grins. It’s lopsided and dirty. Leaving his hand where it is, he brings the rest of his body up, above Alex, and mouths at his ear, sucking the lobe into his mouth, using teeth. “Where exactly do you want my mouth?”

Alex smirks. “Get creative.”

***

“You okay?” Michael asks, not infrequently.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Alex responds, rubbing Michael’s curls reassuringly.

***

“Whoa, _fuck_!”

Michael pulls off of Alex immediately and looks at him, concerned. “What? What? Everything okay?”

“God,” Alex mutters, rubbing at his face with his hand. “YES, everything is fine. Christ, more than fine, Michael. I’m fine. Just, just keep going.”

Michael’s still looking at him uncertainly.

“Wasn’t expecting your fingers is all,” Alex finally grits out, and he’s rewarded with a smile.

***

“You’re so good, you feel so good…” Michael’s eyes are closed, and he’s muttering the words right into Alex’s neck as he ruts against him. Alex tightens his grip on Michael’s cock and runs his other hand along Michael’s back, down to his ass. He grabs his ass, hard, and that does it.

***

“You sure you’re okay?” Michael asks. “You were breathing kind of heavy there,”

“We were having sex, Michael. I would be concerned if I wasn’t breathing heavy.”

Michael makes a face. “Still… like, maybe you should have worn your heart rate monitor.”

Alex scoffs. “Cause _that’s _real attractive.” He affects a deep, ‘seductive’ voice. “_Let me just get my heart monitor, baby_.” He shakes his head. “Fuck. I’m falling apart,” he says, laughing, but it’s tinged with bitterness.

Michael hears it, cuddles up to him. “You’re not, you’re not,” he says softly. “You’re right here with me, and I love you.”

_I don’t deserve you, _says the familiar voice in Alex’s head.

The less familiar, but well-practiced voice in Alex’s head sighs wearily, then speaks. _I do deserve you. I deserve to be loved by the man I love. I deserve to enjoy sex, even if my body’s not the same as it used to be._

“I love you too.”

***

Michael falls asleep shortly after that, still naked. Jet lag has always hit Michael harder than Alex, which is funny to Alex, given that only one of them has ever been on a fucking spaceship. Alex covers him up with the nice hotel sheets and skims his hand down the line of his body. By this point, Alex has shed the robe and has changed into some soft pants and a sweater. He rubs at his new scar through his layers of clothing. It’s tiny – it will barely be noticeable once it’s fully healed.

Alex allows himself some time to really look at Michael, study him. It was probably about twenty years ago that they’d realized that Michael wasn’t really aging the way… the way _humans_ aged. At first it was sort of funny – would Michael ever get a wrinkle? Would he ever find a grey hair? But now… now Alex has just had a goddamn heart attack, and Michael doesn’t look a day over 40.

They thought Michael was his son, in the hospital. His fucking son.

It’s not like Alex hasn’t taken care of himself. He owns a yoga studio. He’s been a vegetarian for over 20 years. It’s just… he’s not an alien.

It was the heart that got his dad, too. Too young, probably, but also far too late, as far as Alex was concerned. He’d cried, that day, when he read the obituary online. Big, gasping sobs of relief, followed by weeks of detachment and anger. Thank god he had a therapist.

It was then that he’d stopped eating meat. It fit with his lifestyle, and his fate would be different, so different from his father’s.

Joke’s on him. Or maybe not. Alex is alive. Jesse isn’t.

Alex jots a note to Michael, leaves it on the nightstand. He’s just going to explore the hotel a little, maybe the surrounding few blocks. He knows better than to push himself too hard, especially right after the sex they just had. God, the sex. He’d missed that, and at the same time he’d been so nervous about it. He’s relieved, deeply relieved that they’d finally taken the plunge, and that they’d both enjoyed it.

But… but he misses feeling confident in his body, misses letting go with unfettered abandon, driving Michael absolutely crazy by being totally in the moment, instead of monitoring his fucking heart rate. Instead of wondering what Michael still sees in him.

_Stop it, _Alex hears himself retorting in his head. _He loves you. You love him. You’ve been through so much together…_

“Hey! Alex!”

Oh, fuck, it’s Peter. “Hey Peter,” Alex says calmly.

“Hell of a night last night, huh?”

Alex smiles, nods. “Yeah, that’s for sure. Congratulations, man. What an honor.”

“For sure, for sure. You know I couldn’t have done it without Michael.”

No _shit. _“You two have been quite a team. Nice to see some recognition for it.”

Peter smiles. He’s always had an ego, but he’s a nice enough guy. “Where is Michael, anyway?”

“Taking a rest,” Alex says smoothly. “Jet lag.”

Peter laughs a little. “The travel always really affects him, huh?” Alex nods. “Well, when he’s up tell him I was looking for him.”

“Will do.”

“Oh, and Alex?” Peter looks at him. “You doing okay? We weren’t sure you’d make it here, after everything.”

Alex gives a tight little smile. “I’m doing okay, thanks.”

***

Alex is just finishing up a damn good cup of coffee in a nearby café when he gets a message from Michael. Alex pays and bundles himself up against the December air. When he arrives back at the hotel room, Michael is just getting out of the shower. Alex can’t help but smile a little as he takes him in.

“What?” Michael asks, when he catches Alex staring.

Alex laughs lightly. “I think you know what.” Michael grins, drops the towel, and walks over to Alex.

***

“You okay?” Michael asks, threading his fingers through Alex’s hair.

Alex lets out a heavy sigh. “My god, Michael, _yes. _I am okay.” He rolls away, to his side. He considers just getting up, going to the bathroom, but he feels like they need to talk about this. “I’m not gonna break. You were there, with Dr. Ramirez. She said I was cleared for everything. Sex, flying, exercise…”

“No, you’re right, I know, it’s just…” Michael’s looking at the ceiling. “Reminds me of old shit, is all.”

Alex softens. “Yeah. Reminds me of it, too.” They’re quiet for a long moment, then Alex smiles. “This is a much nicer hotel room than that shit hole in Durant.”

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” Michael laughs.

Alex is glad to hear it. “God, that was almost… almost fifty years ago.”

“Fuck, we’re old,” Michael says, kissing Alex’s shoulder.

“_I’m _old,” Alex says. He really doesn’t mean for it to sound as hostile as it comes out.

“Not as old as me, man. I’m way older. Over 100.”

And Alex laughs, because Michael’s right.

***

It feels nice to be lazy together. Michael is just finishing getting dressed when Alex remembers his earlier run-in with Peter.

“I saw Peter in the lobby, earlier. He was looking for you.”

“Oh?” Michael says. “He say why?”

“Nope,” Alex shrugs. “Didn’t sound super pressing or anything.”

“Hmmm,” Michael murmurs. A buzzing noise suddenly sounds, and Alex glances at his communicator.

He grins. “It’s Stella.”

Michael smiles too, big and warm. “Awesome.”

Alex clicks on the screen and is immediately greeted by Stella’s eyes, bright blue, looking right at him. She scrambles backward, and the viewscreen reveals a number of other faces – Isobel, Max, Liz, and James. “Congratulations, Michael!” they shout in unison.

Michael laughs. “Thanks!”

“We watched the livestream yesterday afternoon,” Stella says. “Peter gave a nice speech. Mentioned you.”

Michael nods. “Yeah, he did.”

Isobel snorts. “He better have. He’d never have gotten to where he is without you.”

Michael cocks his head to the side. “Hey, we’ve talked about this. Had to be this way, you know?”

“Definitely,” Max agrees, nodding emphatically.

“We’re proud of you, Mikey,” Liz shouts from the back, arms draped around Max.

“So proud,” says Alex softly, smiling at Michael and pressing a soft kiss to the side of his head.

“So how’s Sweden?” asks James. “I’ve been trying to think of somewhere good to take your sister for our anniversary.” Isobel rolls her eyes fondly.

“Well, we’ve really just seen the hotel and the concert hall so far, but we’ll report back once we gather a little more data,” Michael says. “Speaking of,” he continues, tone a bit more serious, “how’s everything with the lab?”

“Going well, Uncle Mike.”

Michael’s voice lowers. “And the, uh, other project?”

Stella gives him a wink. “Making progress every day.”

Michael’s shoulders relax a little. “Good, good.”

“Hey Alex, how are you feeling?” Liz asks.

“I’m doing pretty well. Hanging in there.”

“Well good. You better bring me back a souvenir.”

“Same,” adds Isobel.

“Me too,” Stella says.

“Noted,” laughs Michael.

A few more pleasantries are exchanged before they end the call. Alex eyes Michael, who looks unusually pensive.

“Hey, everything okay?”

Michael appears to shake himself from his reverie. “No, yeah, everything’s good. Just… just can’t believe I’m here, you know. Like, if you’d have told 18 year old me that someday I’d be in Stockholm for a fucking Nobel Prize ceremony, I’d have thought you were high as shit.”

“You’ve come a long way, Michael,” Alex says gently.

“_We’ve _come a long way,” Michael says, running a hand along Alex’s back. “Listen, um, I’ve been thinking. Would you like to get out of the city?”

“What about the media roundtable this afternoon?”

Michael grins, a little sharply. “I think Peter can handle that on his own, don’t you? He’s the Nobel Prize winner, after all. I’m just his collaborator.”

Alex scoffs a bit, shakes his head, then stills. “You ever regret it?”

“What?”

Alex hunches up a shoulder. “Letting Peter take the lead? Run the lab? Get the credit for all you’ve done?”

Michael licks his lip, a nervous tell. “I mean… sometimes. But honestly? I think it’s worked out for the best, me getting to fly under the radar a bit.” Michael’s quiet, thoughtful, then shrugs. “Hasn’t stopped me from doing anything I wanted to, in the lab, you know?”

“And outside of it,” Alex says pointedly. It’s a bit of a sore spot for them, Michael’s extracurricular project. For at least the past fifteen years, he’s been trying to reconstruct a spaceship out of scavenged parts. It had been slow going, but once their niece had gotten on board five years ago, progress had accelerated. She was so much like Michael in terms of her innate understanding of physics and engineering, and sometimes it scared Alex to think what would happen once the spaceship was complete and operational.

They’re quiet a moment before Michael speaks up. “So what do you say to getting out of town? Seeing a little more nature?”

Alex smiles. “I’d like that.”

***

“Why didn’t you just tell me that you wanted to see the Northern Lights?” Alex asked. “I would have packed differently, and we wouldn’t have needed to spend all this money on winter stuff.”

Michael’s mouth twists up a bit. “I… I had no idea how you’d be feeling when we got here, you know?” He looks out at the road ahead of them. “Thought a big trip like this, to somewhere remote, might be too much.” His brow furrows. “I’m still wondering if it might be too much.”

Alex sighs. “I really do feel okay right now. And seeing the Northern Lights sounds really nice. It’s just not what I expected.” He looks out of the passenger side window at the Gulf of Bothnia. “It’s really beautiful here.”

“Yeah,” Michael says softly. “It’s a long drive though, like 12 hours. You sure you’re okay with it?”

“As of right now, yes.” Alex looks out the window again, looks at Michael. “You remember, back in the early days? We did this for weeks on end, just drove.”

Michael smiles, leans back in his seat. “Ha, yeah, and we were really driving then. The truck. I kind of miss that sometimes,” he says, eyeing the self-driving console warily.

“Yeah,” Alex chuckles. “Christ, can you imagine if the truck had been able to drive itself?”

Michael laughs. “We’d have been fucking, like, the whole time.”

“Totally,” Alex says.

***

The lodge is small and clean. Michael shoulders both their bags and leads the way to the check-in desk, where a very tall, very built man introduces himself as Ulf. Michael turns to Alex with a little smirk and raises an eyebrow.

Another day, maybe _any_ other day, Alex would give Michael a wicked little eyebrow raise of his own, or an exasperated, fond shake of the head. Tonight, though, tired from the drive, out of sorts in his own body, Alex just looks down and away. “I’m going to sit,” he mutters, inclining his head toward a small woodstove in the center of the lobby where a fire is crackling merrily. Everything looks sleek, modern, and woodsy. Alex tries to just watch the fire, noticing the sparking, the heat, the sound of it…

There’s a hand on his shoulder, and he almost startles, bites it back and tries to smile up at Michael. “All set?”

“Yup,” Michael says, grinning. “We’re in Room 13.”

“Lucky,” Alex murmurs.

“I hope so,” says Michael, with a waggle of his eyebrows.

It lands wrong, and Alex looks away, a little frustrated with Michael, but more frustrated with himself. “Not tonight, okay?”

Michael looks at him, smile slipping a bit. “Yeah, sure.” They walk down the short hallway and Michael opens the door, flicks on a light, and stares at Alex. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah…” Alex sighs. “No. Not really. Maybe I shouldn’t have come on this trip. Maybe I wasn’t ready for it.”

Michael’s looking at him, concerned. “What? Is, is it your heart?”

“Kind of?” Alex sits heavily on the bed. “It’s just… god, it’s fucking everything Michael. I’m sorry. I know this is your big honor, your big event, and this is your big trip that you wanted to take, to see the Northern Lights, apparently, and I’m proud of you, so fucking proud, but…” But what? “But I’m just…”

“Just what, Alex?”

_Fuck. _“God, Michael, I should have booked a therapy appointment before we came, I’m sorry.”

“So book it when we get back, but Alex, you can talk to me, now. I’m right here. You’re what?”

“I’m…” Alex shakes his head. “I’m a yoga instructor. You’ve won a Nobel Prize.”

“Technically –“

“Michael,” Alex cuts him off. “Peter’s name might be the one they called, but we both know that award belongs to you.” Alex sighs shakily. “And I just had a heart attack. You had to carry the damn duffel for me. You look…” Alex rakes his eyes over Michael’s form, drinks him in, “…_hot_, and young, and like you should be fucking Ulf instead of me.” Michael opens his mouth in protest but Alex keeps going. “And, and I’m just a human. A human who is going to age like a normal human does, and you are going to be _you_, with your alien brain and genes, and I _know _this is all my old shit, but fuck, Michael it still hurts.”

Michael swallows hard and stares at Alex. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, then crosses to him and sits down next to him on the king-size bed, all done up in crisp white linens. “What do you want, Alex?” he asks, so softly. “From me, right now, what do you want?”

Alex holds open his arms to him, and Michael gathers him into an embrace.

***

It’s refreshing to not have to worry about an alarm clock, or even daybreak. Above the arctic circle like this, it never gets very light at this time of year, and Alex and Michael sleep far longer than they normally would. “Must have needed it,” yawns Michael, as he pulls on a sweater, one that makes his eyes look even more golden than usual. They make the short walk to the lobby and are greeted by a middle-aged blonde woman.

“Ah, good morning! I am Ulla. I am here during the day, while Ulf is here at night. You have met him, yes?”

Michael gives a polite smile, saving Alex the trouble of doing so. “Yes, he got us checked in last night.”

“Very good. What brings you to Tarendo?”

“Northern Lights,” says Michael.

Ulla smiles widely. “Ah, yes, excellent. This is the perfect time of year, and place. Ulf is our resident astronomer. He’ll be happy to give you some tips about the best times and places to see the lights.” Alex can only exchange a small smile with Michael and shake his head.

Ulla doesn’t seem to notice. “We have always got fresh coffee and hot chocolate in the lobby. Blankets and snow shoes for guests to use. You have just missed the breakfast buffet, but I can get you something if you like – muesli, yogurt, berries?”

“That would be great,” says Alex.

“Wonderful. We keep a fire going here in the lobby all day and night, and there are fireplaces in each room, too. Ulf chops the wood, so just let him know if you need more. He’s also our cook, in the evenings – we offer a hot meal every night, and a sandwich bar and soups at lunch. There is also a sauna, which I highly recommend.”

“Thanks for the info,” Michael says.

“Any questions, before I get your breakfast?”

Michael and Alex shake their heads, and Ulla smiles at them warmly before retreating to the back. They make their way over to the coffee pots and pour themselves generous helpings before settling in front of the fire.

“So,” Alex says in a low voice, as not to be overheard, “Ulf’s a night owl, good with wood, cooks, and he’s interested in astronomy… practically your dream guy.”

Michael tilts his head. “Oh, my dream guy’s here, but his name’s not Ulf.”

***

Alex doesn’t remember the last time he wore this many layers. He’s bundled in a turtleneck, a sweater, and a warm coat, plus gloves and a hat. Too-big snow pants, heavy boots, and snowshoes. He feels a little foolish, but it’s so dark that he can’t bring himself to care. Michael is similarly attired, and they are being led down a wooded path by Ulf, who looks like a fucking Olympian.

“Just a little further!” Ulf shouts. “The view is incredible over here by the river!”

“Lead the way, man,” Michael encourages.

Alex takes his time, not wanting to strain. It’s so cold, and so quiet. There’s a hushed, muffled quality to the landscape, the only light coming from the moon, the stars, and Ulf’s flashlight. By the time Alex reaches the clearing at the river’s edge, Michael and Ulf are already setting up blankets and a thermos.

“The thing to do now is just wait,” Ulf said. “The lights will come when they come. It is a good night for it. You’re lucky.”

“We are,” agrees Michael as he smiles in Alex’s direction.

Ulf presses a small device into Michael’s hand. “When you are ready to come back, call me on this, and I will help guide you.”

“Thanks,” Alex says. Ulf grins, his teeth so white in the moonlight, and he briskly snowshoes back toward the lodge.

“Hot chocolate?” Michael asks.

“Yes, please,” Alex replies, settling down on a blanket-covered log. The hot drink feels good going down, nearly scalding his tongue, but Alex doesn’t care, so grateful for the warmth.

“It’s only 4 in the afternoon back in New Mexico,” Michael comments. “Makes this whole thing a little easier.”

“God, that’s true,” Alex says, sipping the cocoa. “I bet it will be hard going back.”

“Yeah.” They take turns drinking from the Thermos. Growing up, Alex’s father would spend money on expensive camping gear – one of his few indulgences. He remembered using Thermoses like this one that claimed to keep drinks hot or cold for hours. He never understood the appeal, at the time. But then, he’d never been above the Arctic Circle before now.

“Do you see anything?” Alex finally asks.

“Nope,” Michael says, scanning the sky. “Why, do you?”

“No,” Alex replies. “Just wondered if maybe, like, you could see something I didn’t. On account of… you know…”

Michael gives a little chuckle. “Nah. My eyes seem to be the same as yours in this atmosphere.”

They’re quiet together, and it’s nice. After a while, Alex feels Michael shifting next to him.

“Um, Alex?”

There’s something in Michael’s tone that makes Alex set down the Thermos and turn to face him. “Yes?”

Michael’s fidgeting, clearly nervous about something. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about for a while.”

Despite the cold, Alex feels his palms getting sweaty. Shit. This is it – they’re done. He curses himself, almost immediately. _No_, Alex tells himself. _That’s not what this is. _All Michael’s sweet words these past few days, calling him his “dream guy” just yesterday, his attentiveness at the hospital. Nearly fifty years of memories together. He wouldn’t end it here, like this, in the middle of a forest in Sweden. Would he? No, fuck, he wouldn’t. Why does his brain still do this, automatically jump to the worst case scenario and make him work double time to spin a more realistic story?

He makes himself breathe evenly. “What is it, Michael?” Probably doesn’t help that he was just thinking about his Dad, with the Thermos. At least he caught the thought, changed it. What did Khan used to say, all those years ago? _Catch it, check it, change it_… That’s the shitty part about trauma. It’s not like a clean break, the too-easy snap of a wrist at age 14, pop of a shoulder at 15. Those were treated, set, and forgotten. Wounds of the mind, though…

Michael, out of habit, scratches at the back of his neck with his gloved hand. “I’ve been thinking a lot about you, about us these past few months. Ever since your heart attack.” He grabs Alex’s hand, squeezes tight. “You scared the fuck out of me, Alex. I haven’t been that scared since… since…the shed. Since I was 17. Since all of this,” he gestures between them, “started.”

Alex squeezes Michael’s hand back. He doesn’t know where Michael is going with this, and he’s still feeling uncertain.

“Thought I was going to lose you, and all I could think of was how busy I’ve been, with the lab, with the ship.” He takes a deep breath. “I know,” he starts, voice low, “that you never liked the idea of the ship, the thought that I was building something that could take me away from you, away from the planet. But… like so much else, my whole fucking career, really, it was important to me, so you let me have it. More than that, really, you supported me. Put your own plans on the back burner so I could get tenure, get the research grants, get published,” he smirks, “put up with Peter’s shit.” He strokes Alex’s thumb rhythmically. “But I guess I took it for granted that you’d always be here. I know better now.” He lets go of Alex’s hand. “I’m a dumbass, right? Like, I should have known that wouldn’t necessarily be the case, what with all the shit we went through. Your throat, those five years apart…”

Michael’s biting his lip, and then suddenly he’s looking right at Alex with an intensity that’s unusual. “I know I’m not aging right. Like a human, I mean. I’m…” he’s sniffling now, “I’m gonna have to figure out how to live in this world without you. Or another world. Fuck.” He wipes at his face with his gloves. “Or not, right?” He gives a sputtery little laugh. “I mean, shit, Alex, for all we know all aliens die from… from fuckin’ tooth cancer when they turn 70. I could go first. I mean, we don’t know shit.” Michael shakes his head minutely, seems to compose himself. “But. But I’m a scientist. And I know how our cells look. And I know how _I_ look, and Izzy, and Max. Um, compared to you. To Liz and James.”

Michael looks skyward. “I don’t know how much longer I can get away with just kind of… living this life, without it attracting attention. It’s worked till now. Those ten years on the run, they bought me a buffer.”

Alex nods. They’ve been over this before. Everyone at grad school just assumed Michael had started college at 18, instead of 28. Once his unusual aging started getting more apparent, Izzy just went to the DMV with him and formalized things. Easy enough to explain things away as clerical errors, especially when Michael looks… well, when Michael looks the way he does.

“But now I think it’s time. Time that I stepped back a little, let other people take up some of the work. Fade away a little, but be more present with… with _you_.”

Alex is forcing himself to breathe evenly. He’s wanted that, over the years, wanted it so much. Those first ten years, keeping Michael to himself wasn’t right, but thirty years sharing him, watching him stretch himself thin with academia, research, the world? Constantly worrying about discovery with the increased scrutiny that followed from Michael being a public figure, a lauded, celebrated one? That was hard, too. So damn hard.

“I know…” Michael starts, and he pauses. His voice is low but strong. “I know that neither of us ever wanted to get married. That we didn’t need a piece of paper to tell us what we were to each other.” Michael shakes his head minutely. “But fuck it if I don’t want _you _to know, Alex, right now. I want you to know what you are to me. You’re _so _much. I’d say you’re everything, but I know that’s not healthy, even if that’s how it feels sometimes.”

Alex’s eyes have gone wide, and he’s very still, just staring at Michael.

“Like I said,” Michael clears his throat, “I’ve been thinking. And I just want you to know that I love you. And that that, as long as you’re here, on this planet, in this – “ he gestures to Alex with his hand, “this body, this form, I’m yours, and I’ll be here with you.”

Alex gasps a little and slumps, lets Michael support the weight of his body as it falls against Michael’s, lets Michael hold him. The only sound around them is Michael’s breath, heavy, puffing clouds of condensation into the night air around them. Michael sniffs, suddenly. “Fuck, Alex, say something.”

Alex knows he should say that he loves Michael, or _show _that he loves Michael with a kiss, with something. But the first thing that comes out is, “What about your ship?”

Now it’s Michael who slumps, gives a plaintive little laugh. “Dammit, Alex,” he says, but it’s fond, not angry. “Haven’t you been listening? If things go how I think they might… how the data and the odds, um, suggest they might, there will be time for that. Time…” he swallows hard, “…after. In the future, that doesn’t take away from the time I have here, with you.” Michael surges forward, finally, gloved hand going to Alex’s face, lips joining. Alex is startled to feel a warm wetness on his face where their cheeks touch. Michael’s crying.

Michael realizes it too, pulls back and wipes at his face with his glove.

And now, now Alex can say it. Now it comes out, the most natural thing. “I love you, Michael.” His glove is on Michael’s cheek, holding his face in place, forcing the eye contact in the darkness. “I’ve loved you since I was 17, since before I knew what love actually was.” Another kiss, closed eyes. “I… I don’t know what the future will hold. But I know that right now, we’re here, you and me, together.” Alex breathes. “And that’s enough. Always has been.”

Michael kisses him, deepens it, holds him close. Alex pulls back to look at him, take him in, when…

“Oh my god,” he gasps. “Michael, Michael look!”

The sky is glowing. Green edged with lavender, dancing, undulating in the sky. It steals Alex’s breath, Michael’s too.

“Oh, fuck,” Michael breathes, stunned.

They say nothing for a long time as they sit, pressed together on the log, watching the colors blend and move, hushed and holy. It reminds Alex of the alien glass, of the glint of Michael’s hazel eyes, of an Oklahoma sunset, of the moon and the tide the first time they ever saw the ocean.

They say nothing.

Alex lets his head rest on Michael’s shoulder, lets Michael wrap him in his warmth.

***

They’re 18 in pushed-together twin beds in Oklahoma.

They’re 37 on a blow up mattress in the first house they’ve ever owned.

They’re 45 on the couch in Michael’s new office.

They’re 66 in Alex’s hospital bed.

***

They’re together.

They say nothing.

They feel everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for coming on this journey with me. I have so enjoyed creating this story.
> 
> I have just joined tumblr:
> 
> aewriting.tumblr.com
> 
> Feel free to say hello or ask questions.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


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